Part 33 (1/2)
”I wish you _bon voyage_, Monsieur.”
”Say Louis just once. It will be a bit of music to which I shall sail up the river.”
”Monsieur Louis.”
The tone was clear and no warmth penetrated it. He could see her face distinctly in the moonlight and it was pa.s.sive in its beauty.
”Thou hast not forgiven me. If I knelt--”
”Nay!” she sprang up and stood at Pani's back. ”There is nothing to kneel for. When you are away I shall strive to forget your insistence--”
”And remember that it sprang from love,” he interrupted. ”Jeanne, is your heart of marble that nothing moves it? There are curious stories of women who have little human warmth in them--who are born of strange parents.”
”Monsieur, that is wrong. Jeanne hath ever been loving and fond from the time she put her little arms around my neck. She is kindly and tender--the poor tailor's lonely woman will tell you. And she spent hours with poor Madame Campeau when her own daughter left her and went away to a convent, comforting her and reading prayers. No, she is not cold hearted.”
”Then you have taken all her love,” complainingly.
”It is not that, either,” returned the woman.
”Jeanne, I shall love thee always, cruel as thou hast been. And if thou art so generous as to pray for others, say a little prayer that will help me bear my loneliness through the cold northern winter that I had hoped might be made warm and bright by thy presence. Have a little pity if thou hast no love.”
He was mournfully handsome as he stood there in the silvery light.
Almost her heart was moved. She said a special prayer for only one person, but Louis Marsac might slip into the other cla.s.s that was ”all the world.”
”Monsieur, I will remember,” bowing a little.
”Oh, lovely icicle, you are enough to freeze a man's soul, and yet you rouse it to white heat! I can make no impression I see. Adieu, adieu.”
He gave a sudden movement and would have kissed her mouth but she put her hand across it, and Pani, divining the endeavor, rose at the same instant.
”Mam'selle Jeanne Angelot, you will repent this some day!” and his tone was bitter with revenge.
Then he plunged down the street with an unsteady gait and was lost in the darkness.
”Pani, come in, bar the door. And the shutter must be fastened;” pulling the woman hastily within.
”But the night will be hot.”
”It is cooler now. There has been a fresh breeze from the river. And--I am sore afraid.”
It was true that the night dews and the river gave a coolness to the city at night, and on the other side was the great sweep of woods and hills.
Nothing came to disturb them. Jeanne was restless and had bad dreams, then slept soundly until after sunrise.
”Antoine,” she said to the tailor's little lad, ”go down to the wharf and watch until the 'Flying Star' sails up the river. The tide is early. I will reward you well.”
”O Mam'selle, I will do it for love;” and he set off on a trot.
”There are many kinds of love,” mused Jeanne. ”Strange there should be a kind that makes one afraid.”