Part 12 (1/2)
”Ah, Pierre, you do not love me so very much if you ask that.”
”I ask you that,” said Pierre, ”in order to make you say what I know just as well as you.”
”You want me to give you some compliments. But you'll be neatly caught.
For if you know why I love you, I for my part do not know why.”
”You don't know?” said Pierre in consternation.
”Why no!” (She was laughing in her sleeve.) ”And there is no need at all why I should know. When one asks why something is, it means that one is not sure about it, that the thing is not good. Now that I do love, no more why! No more where or when or for, nor how either! My love is, my love is! All beside may exist if it cares to.”
Their faces kissed each other. The rain took advantage of that, gliding under the awkward umbrella in order to brush with its fingers their hair and cheeks; between their lips they drank in a little cold drop.
Pierre remarked:
”But the others?”
”What others?” quoth Luce.
”The poor,” answered Pierre. ”All those who are not us?”
”Let them do as we do! Let them love!”
”And be loved? Luce, all the world can not do that.”
”Why, yes!”
”Why, no. You don't realize the value of the gift you have made me.”
”To give one's heart to love, one's lips to the beloved is to give one's eyes to the light; it isn't giving, it's taking.”
”There are blind people.”
”We cannot cure them, Pierrot. Let's do the seeing for them!”
Pierre remained silent.
”What are you thinking of?” asked she.
”I am thinking that on this day, very far from us, very near, He suffered the Pa.s.sion, He who came on earth to cure the blind.”
Luce took his hand:
”Do you believe in Him?”
”No, Luce, I believe no longer. But he remains always the friend of those he has accepted, even once, at his table. And you, do you know him?”
”Hardly,” responded Luce. ”They never talked to me about him. But without knowing him I love him.... For I know that he loved.”