Part 3 (2/2)

”'I shall not trouble you long,' she said, 'but I must talk with you.

Perhaps we shall both sleep better.'

”She seated herself with her back toward the open balcony-door.

”'Shall I close the window?' I asked.

”'Why? It is nothing secret. I could say it as well before a third person. It has been clear and comprehensible to you yourself for a long time.'

”'What?' I asked, looking past her out into the night.

”'That you love her. One can see it easily enough. And she too is no longer an inexperienced child. I would only like to know if you have told her, and how she received it.'

”I sat before her as if in a spiritual swoon, or as when one dreams of being almost naked in a gorgeous company, and would perish for shame.

”'How can you imagine----' I stammered.

”'It has not been easy for me,' she continued with a sad smile; 'but it will not be otherwise, because I wish it so. I saw it coming, and had time enough to become used to it, if it is ever possible to accustom one's self to certain experiences. It is always best not to close the eyes and seal the lips when people love each other. And you love me yet, I know, in spite of everything.'

”'Thank you for those words!' I exclaimed, and rushed to take her in my arms. But she repelled me with gentle firmness.

”'No, stay there,' she said; 'we will talk it over calmly. I am no heroine, and this discussion is very hard for me. But tell me.'

”I a.s.sured her, on my honor, that no word had pa.s.sed my lips which could have betrayed the state of my feelings. Then I told her, even to the smallest detail, all that had happened on the lake that day, and also everything which I had felt.

”'I suspected something of the sort,' she replied quietly. 'She avoided my eye, and you--you had no thought for our child. It is a pa.s.sion; that we cannot hide from ourselves. You will not think me so childish as to surrender to a miserable jealousy, overwhelm you with reproaches, or make any scene which might show our friend how much harm she has done me. Can I blame you for loving her? She is so lovable, that I myself, even yet, love her as an only sister. It does not surprise me.

I knew it at the first sight of her charming face. If, in spite of that, I did nothing to keep her away from us, indeed, rather brought her into closer intimacy, it was because I have always considered that old proverb--'Out of sight, out of mind--' perfectly false. No, the absent are preferred to all present people; our hearts idealize them; love and longing grow with separation. I hoped that the first witchery would be paled and effaced by frequent meeting. It has certainly happened otherwise, and the future is very dark to me.'

”'Let us go away!' I said. 'We could pack this evening and go to Lausanne tomorrow at dawn. I promise you, this sickness will leave my blood with change of air.'

”She shook her head gently.

”'Out of sight, _in_ mind,' she said. 'Yes, even if it were only a whim; you a light-minded, fickle-hearted man, and she a pretty theatre princess. But consider how everything about her touches you--her unhappiness, her loneliness, the n.o.bility of her whole character, and her music. At the first sound of a violin you would live it all over again. No, my dear friend, we dare not flee, and I dare not appear cowardly in your eyes. I am not so. I know that we are too firmly united to be parted by any power whatever. But I am not so high-minded that I can share you with another. I would rather die!'

”We sat facing each other in sorrowful silence. I felt that any word, any a.s.surance of my good faith, would be trivial, a desecration of the situation which she regarded so purely and n.o.bly. At length she arose.

”'I feel much better now,' she said, smiling with an indescribably brave and beautiful expression. 'Do not think any more about it. Good counsel comes in the night. But promise that you will keep your confidence in me, and that you will never hide anything for fear of hurting me. The concealment itself would pain me. Are we not human, and therefore poor creatures unable to master our own hearts? No one is responsible for his inclinations, but only for his deeds. And you, I know, will never do anything which could really divide us. Good-night!'

”She gave me her hand. I wanted to take the n.o.ble woman in my arms; but, retreating, she bade me farewell with her eyes, and disappeared into her room.

”You can imagine that I fell asleep late. But this time it was not because of the fever of an unreasoning, G.o.dless pa.s.sion, like that which had kept me dreamily half-awake for so many nights. The clear, quiet words which I had just heard dropped upon my burning wound like a powerful balsam. I felt myself already in a sort of convalescence, because of whose great charm I could not sleep. I could scarcely conceive how any other woman than my own wife could ever have gained power over me. More than once I longed to steal into her chamber, kneel by her bedside, and, if she awoke, declare my love to her. But I was forced to remember that she had pushed me away, and that my warmest protestations might perhaps find no belief. Thinking thus, I finally fell asleep.

”I awoke before sunrise. You know that, on that sh.o.r.e, it is day some time before the sun appears above the Dent-du-Midi. Downstairs, all was already awake and astir. In the neighboring room nothing was moving.

She, too, did not close her eyes till late, and needs the morning sleep, thought I.

”But I myself felt impelled to go out. I dressed noiselessly and stepped softly down stairs. I longed for a bath in the lake; the blood was burning in my veins. As I came down and approached her door, I saw that it stood ajar; and within, seated upon a chair in the middle of the room, and surrounded by locked trunks, I saw Lucile herself, her bill and its amount in gold lying on the table before her.

”Involuntarily I stood still. At the same instant she glanced up and recognized me. I crossed the threshold in intense excitement.

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