Part 16 (1/2)
”We shall see.”
”When shall we see?”
”Later on.”
”Why?”
”Because,” said Marguerite, releasing herself from my arms, and, taking from a great bunch of red camellias a single camellia, she placed it in my b.u.t.tonhole, ”because one can not always carry out agreements the day they are signed.”
”And when shall I see you again?” I said, clasping her in my arms.
”When this camellia changes colour.”
”When will it change colour?”
”To-morrow night between eleven and twelve. Are you satisfied?”
”Need you ask me?”
”Not a word of this either to your friend or to Prudence, or to anybody whatever.”
”I promise.”
”Now, kiss me, and we will go back to the dining-room.”
She held up her lips to me, smoothed her hair again, and we went out of the room, she singing, and I almost beside myself.
In the next room she stopped for a moment and said to me in a low voice:
”It must seem strange to you that I am ready to take you at a moment's notice. Shall I tell you why? It is,” she continued, taking my hand and placing it against her heart so that I could feel how rapidly and violently it palpitated; ”it is because I shall not live as long as others, and I have promised myself to live more quickly.”
”Don't speak to me like that, I entreat you.”
”Oh, make yourself easy,” she continued, laughing; ”however short a time I have to live, I shall live longer than you will love me!”
And she went singing into the dining-room.
”Where is Nanine?” she said, seeing Gaston and Prudence alone.
”She is asleep in your room, waiting till you are ready to go to bed,”
replied Prudence.
”Poor thing, I am killing her! And now gentlemen, it is time to go.”
Ten minutes after, Gaston and I left the house. Marguerite shook hands with me and said good-bye. Prudence remained behind.
”Well,” said Gaston, when we were in the street, ”what do you think of Marguerite?”
”She is an angel, and I am madly in love with her.” ”So I guessed; did you tell her so?”