Child of a Century, Complete

nothing but her, and I despaired of ever forgetting her. Nevertheless I determined to restrain my feelings in her presence; I had suffered too cruelly at the prospect of losing her to run an

lysis that characterized our past intercourse; she treated me with kindness, but I distrusted even that kindness; I walked with her in the garden, but no longer accompanied her outside of the premises; we no longer wandered through the woods and valleys; she opened the piano when we were alone; the sound of her voice no longer awakened in my heart those transports of joy which are like sobs that are inspired by hope. When I took leave of her, she gave me her hand, but I was conscious of the fact that it was lifeless; there was much effort in our familiar ease, many reflections in our lightest remarks, much sadness at the bottom of it all. We felt that there was a third party between us: it was my love for her. My actions never betrayed it, but it appeared in my face. I lost my cheerfulness, my energy, and the color of health that once shone in my cheeks. At the end of one month I no longer resembled my old self. And yet in all our conversat

ered her pride, while my pallor awakened her charitable instinct. At times she appeared to be irritated, almost coquettish; she would say in a tone that was almost rebellious: "I shall not be here to-morrow, do not come on suc

aid. "If I had not met you, I might have relapsed int

n to you; who knows, if I should lose you, whither the sorrow that consumes me might lead me, bec

lofty devotion whose soul was as pious as it was ardent. It was probably t

den on the occasion of my first visit. He began to make excuses that were as tiresome as himself for presuming to call on me witho

ering everything on the table before him as if at a loss what to say. Finally he informed me that Madam

ate yesterday afternoon, and s

bow

rd to me by a third person? She does not live

derstand what this peculiar manner signified, mu

l see her to-morrow and she

tation c

d me-that I should inform yo

s it?" I crie

k Madame Pierson is seriously ill; she

ow, and h

adame Pierson did not wish to see me, and I could not explai

ant who met me said that her mistress was indeed very ill and could not see me;

surrounded by a number of schoolchildren, his uncle's pupils. I stopped h

turn to hesitate, for I was at a loss ho

s there some motive behind it? Moreover, as there is not a physician in the neighborhood who can be

im to notify me as he had done. While talking we had walked down the road some distance and had now reached a deserte

sieur? You intend to reso

to make you tell

no one, and I have told yo

t to know, but not what you know. Madam

o you

closed her door against me, and why

saw a peas

him by name, "wait a momen

ce in the presence of a third person. I released him, but so roughly that he stagger

was refused admittance. I received one letter from her; she said that my assiduity was causing tal

of this kind, that at first I could hardly believe it. Not knowing what else to say, I replied that there was no desi

I did not believe in her illness. I did not know why she kept me at a distance; but I was so miserably unhappy that, at times, I thought seriously of pu

e in the hope of a visit. All the time I was sorely tempted to throw myself at her feet, and tell her of my despair. I knew that she would not be insensible to it, and that she would at least

agged on the way to her house; I felt that I was exhausting the source of tears, and e

to get away, leaving me more dead than alive after her cruel words. If surprised by a natural impulse of sympathy, she immediately checked herself and

and it is too far to go on foot. Be here with your horse ear

feeling of deep dejection. In restoring me to the privilege I had formerly enjoyed of accompanying her on her missions about the country, she had

olently as I took her foot; I do not know whether it was from desire or anger. "If she is

me to see if I was following her; but when we came to the forest and our horses' hoofs resounded against the rocks that lined the road, I saw that she was trembling. She stopped as though to wait for me, as I was some distance in

which is consuming me? Raise your head and answer me. Do you not see that I suffer and that my nights are given to weeping? Have you not met in the forest an unfortunate wretch sitting in solitary dejection with his hands pressed to his forehead? Have you not seen tears on these bushes? Look at me, look at these mountai

he said, "let us r

her horse

rom your presence; you have become tired of that sorrowful lover who suffered without complaint and who drank with resignation the bitter chalice of your disdain! You knew that, alone with you in the presence of these trees, in the midst of th

ms and pressed my lips to hers. She turned pale, her eyes close

ied, "she loves me!" S

ed on the ground. I raised her, she opened her eyes, and shudde

autiful as the day, her long hair falling over her shoulders, her hands twitch

ar me!" she cri

s angry and I gave way to my grief; treat me as you choose; you may go away now, you may send

s of my life come to me in the flash of those orbs. I crossed the road and knelt before