Part 36 (1/2)
Agapit motioned Vesper to the chair, and sprawled himself half over the foot of the bed, half out the open window, while he talked to his companion, whose manner had a new and caressing charm that attracted him even more irresistibly than his former cool and somewhat careless one had done.
”Ah, why is life so?” he at last exclaimed, springing up, with a sigh.
”Under all is such sadness. Your presence gives such joy. Why should it be denied us?”
Vesper stared at his shoes to hide the nervous tears that sprang to his eyes.
Agapit immediately averted his sorrowful glance. ”You are not angry with me for my free speech?”
”Good heavens, no!” said Vesper, irritably turning his back on him, ”but I would thank you to leave me.”
”Good night,” said the Acadien, softly. ”May the blessed Virgin give you peace. Remember that I love you, for I prophesy that we on the morrow shall quarrel,” and with this cheerful a.s.surance he gently closed the door, and went to the next room.
Rose threw open the door to him, and Agapit, though he was prepared for any change in her, yet for an instant could not conceal his astonishment. Where was her pallor,--her weariness? Gone, like the mists of the morning before the glory of the sun. Her face was delicately colored, her blue eyes were flooded with the most exquisite and tender light that he had ever seen in them. She had heard her lover's step, and Agapit dejectedly reflected that he should have even more trouble with her than with Vesper.
”Surely, I am to see him to-night?” she murmured.
”Surely not,” growled Agapit. ”For what do you wish to see him?”
”Agapit,--should not a mother hear of her little one?”
”Is it for that only you wish to see him?”
”For that,--also for other things. Is he changed, Agapit? Has his face grown more pale?”
Agapit broke into vigorous French. ”He is more foolish than ever, that I a.s.sure thee. Such a simpleton, and thou lovest him!”
”If he is a fool, then there are no wise men in the world; but thou art only teasing. Ah, Agapit, dear Agapit,” and she clasped her hands, and extended them towards him. ”Tell me only what he says of Narcisse.”
”He is well; he will tell thee in the morning of a plan he has. Go now to bed,--and Rose, to-morrow be sensible, be wise. Thou wert so noteworthy these three weeks ago, what has come to thee now?”
”Agapit, thou dost remember thy mother a very little, is it not so?”
”Yes, yes.”
”Thou couldst part from her; but suppose she came back from the dead.
Suppose thou couldst hear her voice in the hall, what wouldst thou do?”
”I would run to greet her,” he said, rashly. ”I would be mad with pleasure.”
”That man was as one dead,” she said, with an eloquent gesture towards the next room. ”I did not think of seeing him again. How can I cease from joy?”
”Give me thy promise,” he said, abruptly, ”not to see him without me.
Otherwise, thou mayst be prowling in the morning, when I oversleep myself, and thou wilt talk about me to this charming stranger.”
”Agapit,” she said, in amazement, ”wouldst thou insult me?”
”No, little rabbit,--I would only prevent thee from insulting me.”
”It is like jailorizing. I shall not be a naughty child in a cell.”