The Confession of a Child of the Century - Complete

soon as she was well enough to travel. But I insisted that she oug

n I tried in vain to guess what was passing in her heart. We went to the theatre every night in order to avoid embarrassing interviews. There we sometimes pressed each oth

d his simplicity reassured me. I had spoken to him of the letters he had brought, and he did not appear offended, but saddened. He was ignorant of the contents, and his friendship for Brigitte led him to

and her relatives after our departure. When we three were together he noticed a certain coldness and restraint which he endeavored to banish by cheerful good-humor.

hat melancholy sympathy I thought I discovered between them, troubled and disquieted me. Not over a month ago I would have become violently jealous; but now, of what could I suspect Brigitte? Whatever the secret she was concealing fr

ould exchange sorrowful glances, that the sight of this young man should awaken memories and regrets? Could he, on the other hand, see her start off on a long journey, proscribed and almost abandoned, without grave apprehensions? I felt this that must be th

t him continually. She, however, told me just what I have told my reader; Smith's life had never been other than it was now-poor,

age, would I have paid the least attention to it? Had he recognized me at the opera or had he not-had he shed tears for some unknown reason, what would it matter so long as I was happy? But while unable to divine the cause of Brigitte's sorrow, I saw th

which the eye seizes at the first glance; one could know him in a quarter of an hour, and he inspired confidence if not admir

but now I began to regret it. Brigitte,

ked. "Here I am recovered

it, indeed? I

e, but an instinct, persistent and fatal. What strange creatures are we! It pleased me to leave them alone before the fire, and to go out on the quay to dream, leaning on the parapet and looking at the water. When they spoke of their life at N---, and when Brigitte, almost cheerful, assumed a motherly a

, do you not?" I asked. "When d

rt; that they were almost agreed on it, and that fortune would one day come, like sleep, without thinking of it; that he had set aside for his sister a part of the money left by their father; that their mother was opposed to it, but that he would insist on it; that a young man can live from hand to mouth, but

ters of this kind. When I returned to my apartments, I found him on the floor, strapping a trunk. Brigitte was at the piano we had rented by the week during our stay. She was playing one o

packed and covered with a linen cloth. Satisfied with his work, he still remained kneeling in the same spot; Brigitte, her hands on the keys, was looking out at the hor

d Brigitte. She trembl

"Sing, my dear, I beg of you.

emotion as well as Smith's; her voice faltered. With t

om Brigues; some trees with cows grazing in the shade; in the distance a village consisting of some dozen houses, scattered here and there. In the foreground a young girl with a large straw hat, seated under a tree, and a farmer's boy standing before her, apparently pointing out, with his iron-tipped stick, the route over whi

igitte. I took a pencil and tra

you doing?

it resemble yours. The pretty hat would become you, and can I not,

t, she wished to try mine. The faces were very small, hence not very difficult; it was agreed that the li

and was not aware of my presence; I sat down near the fire, and it was not until I spoke to Brigitte that he raised his head. He

es it mean?" Then I clasped my hands to plead with-whom? I