She drew up higher on the pillows, with an effort that brought the
pallor to her face again. She cast a nervous glance about the room. I
was afraid lest she perceive the bare walls, the grated window, the
single wicker chair--afraid lest, perceiving them, she take fright
at her strange surroundings, and kill the smile of trustfulness and
confidence that lingered entrancingly on her lips.... But no! The
invisible blinder was securely fastened upon her eyes. She saw nothing
unusual in that chamber which was our prison.
She asked simply:
“What time is it? Surely not yet seven o’clock?”
When I answered I too summoned a smile:
“It’s early still, my silly, charming, little girl....”
With a toss of her head, she shook from her face a few golden tresses
that had strayed there--they shone with all the splendor of the
sun--and sinking back deliciously upon the pillows, on which her light,
her exceedingly light form left scarcely any imprint, she observed:
“I’m glad of that ... I can stay in bed a moment longer.... If I
overslept, I might be late for dinner.... How tired I am! If you only
knew how tired, tired, tired I am!”
She did not move again, but lay there passively, happily, submissive to
the kisses which I rained upon her, though barely pressing my lips to
her tortured wasted flesh.
No, I would tell her nothing! I would be very careful not to tell
her anything! She did not suspect in the least. And what an immense
good fortune that she did not know! Why enlighten her, indeed? No!
My despair, my terror, my mortal danger, that must all remain for me
alone! And she would never, never know! Since I was alone condemned,
I alone would bear the horrors of my destiny. She, free, unknowing,
redeemed, would be on her way back ... toward life! I alone would stay
behind, silently turning my footsteps toward ... nonentity!... But
for my silence I would be repaid with one supreme reward; the almost
unbearable intoxication of this last love tryst, which would come to me
pure, spotless, undisturbed, without a shadow of any kind upon it....
She was becoming more and more wakeful, and now was chatting with a
ripple of words, words of no import, that entered like little gleams of
freedom into the darkness of our prison.
She said:
“Imagine, dearest! At my dressmaker’s last Tuesday....”
And later on:
“You know very well whom I mean! Marie Thérèse, the ugly thing! I saw
her! She was making up to you under my very nose, at the Squadron
Ball....”
And again:
“The next time we go for a ride....”
I, meanwhile, kept drawing my two hands down caressingly over her
silky hair and silky arms, hungrily absorbing every possible sensation
of that living reality which was in her as her very self.... And I
thought.... What was I, indeed, but a corpse, listening from the depths
of a grave to living beings conversing on the sod overhead ...?
Yes, a corpse....
My gaze was fixed upon her bright sea-green eyes, and upon her
delicate, gaily chirping lips; and within me was a scream of desperate
anguish!
“You, you are my destroyer ... you! You crossed my path, and I followed
you; and you guided me, almost by the hand, to the yawning gateway
of the tomb! Yes, that was true: a will-o’-the-wisp of the deadliest
lineage, leading the luckless wayfarer blindly to destruction! And
I succumbed! Everything is lost ... for me! But now ... can’t you
see, can’t you feel, my agony? You are gay? You laugh? You chatter?
Is it not written on my face, is it not written in my heart, that I
am doomed, that I shall never, never more set eyes upon you? Yes, it
is all written there--my love, my fate, my death! And if you fail to
read, it is because you know not how to read; and if you know not
how to read, it is because you do not love. Oh my dear lost love! Oh
my fragile Goddess! You do not love me ... so you will not miss me,
overmuch.... You will find another man to love.... Youth will erase
unhappy memories.... You will begin life anew ... life anew! Better
thus! Much better thus! I ... I love you! I am saving you! I love you!”
And this last phrase I pronounced aloud, as though I were answering in
those three words all that she had been saying to me:
“I love you ...!”
She stopped, and looked at me in astonishment. Then she burst into a
gay laugh:
“You love me? You love me? Thanks, Monsieur! If ever you dared say you
didn’t ...!”
To punish me, she drew my head down teasingly, and pressed her lips to
mine, in a kiss that lasted ... that lasted, till I knew no more....
When her clasp relaxed, I sat up again. She had sunk gently back upon
the pillows.
Suddenly her eyelids quivered.
“Oh!” she said; “how that kiss fatigued me! Dearest, it cannot be seven
o’clock? Won’t you tell me that I needn’t get up? I’m so tired! So
tired! It can’t be sev....”
She collapsed suddenly upon the pillows, her eyes closed.
The door behind me opened.