Strong as Death

the Opera, the oftener he heard those names repeated. Immense posters, too, affixed to the Morris columns, ann

y, exhibited to the crowd before its doors the pompous, whitish facade and marble col

owds, and the innumerable carriages coming from all parts of Paris allowed

a moment, and from them alighted fashionable and other women, in their opera-cloak

errupted mounting of ladies dressed like queens, whose throats and ears scatte

artists; and throughout the vast amphitheater, under the dazzling electric light from t

king, running about, and shouting, machinists in blouses, gentlemen in evening dress, actors in costume. But behind the great curtain one heard the deep sound of

bout to pre

a. Annette, half turned toward him, listened with that eager, youthful curiosity with which she regarded the whole world; and at times she cast a tender glance at her fiance, who in a few days would be her husband. She loved hi

ealous love, down in the furnace of human suffering, where the heart seems to crackle like flesh

er a brief and profound silence, the first measure of the introduction arose, filling the house with the invisible and irresistible mystery of the music that p

ds had been touched by those accents. But when the curtain rose he stood up again, and

llery, showed him a portion of the audience in which he recognized many faces. In the orchestra rows, the men in white cravats, sitting side by side, seemed a museum of familiar countenances, society men, artists, journalists, the whole category of those that never fail to go where everyone else goes. In

and evident sympathy to the tenor Montro

d are asking themselves anxiously whether Montrose's voice has not changed!" Then he listened, like the others, and behind the trivial words of the libretto

out being moved by it, but now he suddenly realized its unfathomable dept

all her ears; and murmurs of satisfaction were beginning to be heard f

ormed into a sort of accessory to his passion. He threw the world and himself as nourishment to this fixed idea. All that he saw that was beautiful or rare, al

s love. He looked at Annette's delicate profile, and saw the Marquis de Farandal, seated behind her, also looking at it. He felt old, lost, despairing. Ah, never to await anything more, never to hope for

iumphed already. And Labarriere as Me

tention. The remembrance of Aubin, so dramatic with his bass voice, the

with irresistible power stirred him t

resor qui les

la jeu

is side, a plumed cap on his head, elegant, young, and

phosis. Thenceforth he saw before him only a fairy spectacle, filled with pretty little songs, and actors of talent whose voices were all he listened to. That man in a doublet, that pretty youth

he phrase he had just he

treasure that em

th eyes fixed always upon Annette's blonde head, which rose in the square opening

l minutes, the noise of clapping, stamping, and bravos swept like a storm through the theater. In all the

n for the third time, separating the stage and the interior boxes from the audience, the Duchess and Ann

ed at us!" s

ble artist!" sa

and disdain at the admired actor as he disappeared between two wings, waddling a li

upon the stage. But it was said that he appeared to care very little for all this sentimental delirium, and contented himself with his musical triumphs. Musadieu related, in veiled language because of Annette's presence, details of the life of this handsome s

perpetual representation of human types which never resembled himself in the least; that illusory personifi

ainst actors because they are more successful than you." Turning to Annette, she added: "Come, litt

indeed," Annette replied,

or the second act, and the

have acquired more certainty of method. She had, indeed, become the great, excel

hrases so full of charm and when the pretty blonde Marguerite replie

heart was stung by a new torment. He did not speak between the acts, for he was pursuing into the wings, his fixed thought now become absolute

sses, been rendered by two such interpreters. It was no longer two illustrious actors, Montrose and Helsson; they became two beings from the ideal world, hardly two beings, i

Faust

isse-moi contem

an accent of adoration, of transport and supplication

ed that phrase himself in the park at

se to his lips like a last cry of passion, a last prayer, t

arp pang of jealousy tore his heart, for he had ju

othing! There, very near him, without giving a thought to him, she had a revelation of the way in which love may

creature who saw nothing, who did not know, did not understand! But how he e

in danger of being run over by a fractious horse, to seize her by the arm

had experienced it by the indescribable little wounds which seem to be always bruising a loving heart. He recalled all the painful impressions of petty jealousy that he had endured, in little stings, day after day. Every time that she had remarked, admired, liked, desired something, he had been jealous of it; jealous in an imperceptible but continuous fashion, jealous of all that absorbed the time, the looks, the attention, the gaiety, the astonishment or affection of Annette, for all that took a little of her away from him. He had been jealous of all that she did without him, of all that he did not know, of her going about, her reading, of everything that seemed to please her, jealous even of a heroic officer woun

ra-house, and he felt vexed with everyone because of the tenor's triumph, with the women whom he saw appla

the intelligence of the fashionable world, those ignorant and pretentious amateurs for whom the masters of human art work until death. He looked at them, applauding, shouting, going into ecstas

s took Annette's. They descended the grand stairway again, in the midst of a stream of men and women, in a sort of slow and magnificent cascade of bare shoulders, sumptuous gowns

n one feels for a fellow-countryman met in a distant land, for he now felt lost in

took h

w?" said he. "It is a fine

ling

rowd possessed by that short and violent midnight excitement w

interested him most. The painter allowed him to run on without listening to him, and holding him by the arm, sure of being able soon to lead him to talk of Annette, he walked along without noticing

ch an afflux of miseries, such inevitable tortures, he felt so lost, so far overwhelmed, from this moment, by a wave of unimaginable agony that he could not suppose anyone ever had suffered as he did. And he suddenly thought of the puerility of poets who have invented the useless labor of Sisyphus, the material thirst of Tantalus, the dev

interrupted him, murmuring almost in spite of

charming th

deli

taking up the broken thread of his ideas:

"Yes, yes, yes!" several times in succession, withou

nd in order to attract his attention by one o

the first salons in Pa

the Inspector of Fine Arts, he began to talk wisely of the social foo

a large salon full of light, surrounded by me

ights seemed to be shining through the windows, among the openings in the curtains. He suspected that the Duche

dicting Musadieu's opinions, the talk about the future Marquise. Even that commonplac

s door, in the Avenue de Villiers

t is late, and I

an hour, and we'll hav

ly. It is

sh he had just endured, filled Olivier's soul with

se a study that I have intended

remembrance of promises is short, seized the opportunity. In his capacity as In

th you,"

ent

ed Musadieu to take the one that pleased him best; Musadieu hesitated, disturbed by the gaslight, which deceived him as to tones. At last

ken to your house,

s very evening, so that I may admire it

und himself again alone in his house, that pr

tea and the newspapers, he found his master sittin

indisposed?

g-only a litt

r wish me to brin

ort of weat

ns, Mon

ll. That

ced on the little table the

was a dithyrambic eulogy on four or five young painters who, gifted with real ability as colorist

He began to read the article, then, with the rising anger so quickly felt by a nervous person; at last, glancing a little further down, he saw his

had always encouraged. Formerly, however, at the time of his triumphs, the incense offered was so frequent that it made him forget the pin-pricks. To-day, before the ceaseless influx of new artists and new admirers, congratulations were more rare and criticism was

rticle in order to grasp its every meaning. He and his equals were thrown aside with outrageous disrespect;

tress of soul. He sat until two o'clock in his armchair, before the fireplace, his legs extended toward the fire, not having strength to move, or to do anything. Then the need of

table beside her lay a copy of Figaro. Bertin saw the journal at the moment that he saw the young girl and was bewildered, not daring

laims me. You understand that a dressmaker, at the time of a wedding, is very important. I will lend

unning a little, to show

o much-so much!-quite upset him. His eyes rested again on the Figaro, and he thought: "She has re

f: "Perhaps she has not read it, after all. She is so preoccupied to-day. But someone will undoubtedl

e took the copy, closed it, folded it, and slippe

vier's convulsed and livid face, she guessed

lso, and from her poor body, that was itself so wounded. Throwing her hands up

unhappy

his throat swelled with a sp

-yes

g-room, toward two armchairs hidden by a small screen of antique silk. They sat down

ing him, deeply m

ivier, how

e head on the shou

you believe

it all. I saw it from the be

had accused him: "It i

; I do not repr

laid her lips on one of Olivier's

ust tasted a drop of despair

nd-poor friend

is the fault of our hearts, which never have g

her, to the struggle in his breast. Then, seized by the selfish anguish of love, which had gnawed

w you lo

ssed: "Ah, yes

ts, then continued: "You

rough one of those periods in which one s

s too you

s surp

young

t. It is only at our age t

er resemble that which you fe

As for her, I love her just as I loved you, since she is yourself; but this love has become something

nder a breath of jealousy; but, a

married and gone. When you see her no mor

ok his

lost, lo

hat will be sufficient. Three months were quite enough for you to l

istress, he implored: "

I do, my

leave me

see you as oft

here as much

ou would be

near

her any more bef

, A

least, n

y here thi

divert your mind; go to the club, or the th

treat

ides, I have guests coming to dinner who

chess a

es

last evenin

it! You are in a f

e you to

is imp

am goi

you hu

ust

walk until evening, kill yourself

ad r

-by,

ike me to do something very imprudent, as I used to do-pretend to breakfast

ke it very much.

cause I l

love yo

speak of th

-by,

r friend, til

od-

ow, his bearing resolute. Just as he was about to go, he seized her, clasped her close in both arms, and

ickly, without turn

Annette had not suddenly appeared in search of her. In order to gain time to dry her red eyelids, the Coun

erself with the great affair

ey had just seated themselves at table, and were speaking of the opera of t

ortemain wa

ious! What

e!" exclaimed Annette;

, no doubt," re

tood so clearly his hopeless sorrow, she felt so keenly the counter-stroke of that grief, she lo

s cards. He had written on them in pencil, respectivel

the Duchess inquired. "I thought

him, although he does not compla

ng old quite fast, indeed. I believe, however, that bachelors usually go to pieces sud

sighed th

o Annette to say: "The Figaro has a very d

unfavorable to her friend's talent alw

Bertin's importance need

y was as

able article about Olivier! But I

first page, at the top, with

shed. "Oh, exactly! I did not read

om politics and agriculture M. de Guil

pursued by anxiety as to what Olivier might be doing. Where was he? Where had he dined? Where had he taken his hopeless heart at that moment? She now fe

dly spoken, lashed by vague and superstitious fears; then she went to bed

of her apartment ring. She started, sat up and listened. A sec

pressed the electric button that summoned her mai

or she asked:

r," an unknown

er! Fro

a phys

phys

; it is about

ab-driver in an oilskin cap. He held a paper in his hand, which he pr

ing was

" said she; "sit dow

olently that she could not call him. She pounded on the wood wi

the door, and heard a sleepy voice as

gent letter for you, brought by a ca

l be there," he stammered f

rvants came running, aroused by the ringing of the bell. They were alarmed

turning it over in his fingers, murmu

hen!" said the Co

er, uttered an exclamation of amazement, t

hat is it?

s his emotion: "Oh, a great misfortune-a great

" she

d he; "read f

is hand the letter

y anything decisive as to the probable result of this accident, which may not be serious, although it may have an immediate and fatal result. M. Bertin begs you earnestly and entreats Madame la

DE RI

ly she experienced, like an electric shock, an awakening of that courage which comes t

she said: "Quick!

ame wear?" ask

you like. James," she added

lmed, she noticed the cabman, still waiting

, Ma

ll; we will

t hap-hazard; then, before the mirror, she lifted and twisted her hair without a semblance of order

he rushed to her husband's room, but he

aid she; "remem

his way with his feet on the dark stairs, trying t

aw the flying gas-jets, veiled by the falling rain. The sidewalks gleamed, the Boulevard was deserted, the night was si

an, short, round, very well dressed, extremely polite, came to meet t

s if climbing the stairs had exhau

, doc

t it will be less serious

t die?" she

t, I do not

answer f

ind only a simple abdominal cont

you call

erat

know that th

ppose

f ther

it would b

ht die

es

y so

But reassure yourself, Madame; I am convinced

rofound attention, to kn

ration mig

of the liver,

d be very

lication now. Let us go to him. It will do him

les and the firelight illumined it, defined the profile, deepened the shado

those of a dying man. He, whom she had seen only a little while ago, had become this thing, this sp

ure her, and the grimace of

s gently on one of Olivier's, which lay along

he, in a low tone, w

no longer to have a drop of blood under his skin. His hollow cheeks seemed to have been sucked

friend, and sighed: "He

she asked, looking at

ort to speak, and his who

thing else-something very different-oh, yes!-and a

cident, and shaking with terro

little bruised-

t happen?" s

answered in a very low voice

Count remained standing at the foot of the bed, repeating between his

ply grieved, for he l

t happen?" the C

side of Paris! At least, the cabman that brought him home declared to me that he took him in at a pharmacy of that quarter, to which someone

s if to recollect; then m

e were yo

now. I was walking

n oppressed with a choking that stopped her breathing a few seconds,

eart-remorse for not keeping Olivier near her, for driving him away, for throwing

voice he now had: "Do no

her eyes and fixed them, wide open, upon him, without a quive

let. They gazed at each other, no longer knowing that any other person was in t

to say, rose irresistibly to their lips. She felt that she must at any price send away the two men that stood behind her; she must f

discussing the care to be given. Turning her head the C

ital surgeon, who will keep

an you still get them to-night, for I do no

to go home. I have been

you will send us the n

in the middle of the n

u m

mise, but wil

ou and will bring them back

emain here al

ion. It was necessary that the nurse and the surgeon should be there within an hour, to forestall all accident. To insure this, someone must get out of bed and bring them. Her husband alone could do that. During this tim

ey could only agree upon that,

g to understand perfectly, to remember everything, to forget nothing of the physician's directions. The painter's valet, standing near her, listened also, and behind him his wife, the cook, who had helped in

bove all things

tor to the Count. "It will bring you back q

examined the wounded man, to assure himse

y still

we are doing anything

et. Madame de Guilleroy will see that he does not

was startle

st not tal

alone and will be quite content; but no fatigue of words, or even of thoughts. I

a low bow, followed by

r. Within an hour I shall retu

und of the door below being closed, then to

stood there, awaiting orders.

id she; "I will ring

, and she remaine

illow, on both sides of that dear face, she leaned over to look upon it. Then, with

yourself under

aying: "No, it was that wh

ot true; i

ar to you

mingled in glances, she murmured: "Oh, my dear, dear Olivier,

the same, some day or another

other, seeking to read ea

hall recover," he said at

r very much?"

, y

barely touched him with her lips, with that soft little breath that children give when they kiss. This lasted a long time, a very long tim

he said

r kissing to

my fr

make me

mise anythi

ear to die without seeing her again. . . . Think that . . . to-morrow . . . at this time perhaps I shall have . .

im; her heart

sh! Yes, I promise

swear

hush, do not talk any more.

sed over his face; whe

ether, do not let us lose them; let us seize them to

ighed, "how I

oke a

last days have been hard. . . . It was not your fault. . . . Ah,

vier, I im

r: "I should have been a happy man if

God! Hus

dream rathe

istence and made men was eith

you ever have loved me, be quiet,

herself so pale that she looked as if

mchair, close to the bed, and aga

said she. "Do not stir, and t

he answered these calls by tightening his fingers a little. Each pressure said something to them, evoked some period of their finished past, revived in their memory the

eled back through the years, through the whole history of their passi

g from a dream, he said,

lett

letters?"

died without d

t is of no consequence now. Let them

owest drawer of my desk, the large one; they are all ther

ined crouching, as if he had coun

ture me, unnerve me, drive me mad. Think-they may fall into anyone's han

l hesitating,

l! I feel as if you were compel

her, his face d

the two lines of the address she had written so often. She knew them-those two lines-a man's name, the name of a street-as well as she knew her own name, as well as one can know the few words that have represented to us in life

e pillow that he might watch her, a

m, so many things that were now over-so sweet to feel, to dream! It was the soul of her soul, the heart of her heart, the essence of her loving self that she was holding t

n them, Any!" O

they fell upon the wood. Then she seized those that remained in the desk and threw them on top of the others, then anot

y attacked them first at the edges, gnawed at the corners, ran along the edge of the paper, went out, sprang up again, and went creeping on and on. Soon, all around that white pyramid g

ht of that fire she beheld her friend leanin

ll there?"

s,

nsumed, twisting and turning black, and she saw something red flowing. It looked like drops of blood, and seemed to

ecoiled as if she had seen the assassination of a human being; then she s

nter of the pillow. But he had moved, and his pain increased. He was panting now, his

er, to open his eyes, which remained close

asked: "Do you

d not

forehead to make him look at her. He opened

er? Olivier! Answer me! Shall I call?

him murmur: "Bring her

thes, his body grew rigid, his f

r!" she cried. "What is

r, for he replied, "N

d to his breast, his mouth was half opened by his short breath, which seemed to rasp his throat in passing. Only his fingers moved involuntarily now and then, with slight tremors which the Countess felt to the roots of her hair

a wild desire to run away, to ring, to call, but sh

o hear whether that rolling of wheels did not stop before the door, whether her husba

essed it, uttering a deep sigh! Then she resigned h

the black ashes of the letters; two candle

ock on the stairs, which regularly chimed the hour, the half hour, and the q

that Olivier's fingers were growing cold within her own. Was that true? No, certainly not. But whence had come that sensation of inexpressible, frozen contact? Sh