Was she mastered by love, or by
despair? She threw herself on my breast. I kissed her. She murmured, "Oh
don't tempt me! Don't tempt me!" Again and again, I kissed her. "Ah," I
broke out, in the ecstasy of my sense of relief, "I know that you love
me, now!"
"Yes," she said, simply and sadly, "I do love you."
My selfish passion asked for more even than this.
"Prove it by being my wife," I answered.
She put me back from her, firmly and gently.
"I will prove it, Gerard, by not letting you disgrace yourself."
With those horrible words--put into her mouth, beyond all doubt by the
woman who had interfered between us--she left me. The long hours of the
day passed: I saw her no more.
People who are unable to imagine what I suffered, are not the people to
whom I now address myself. After all the years that have passed--after
age and contact with the world have hardened me--it is still a trial to
my self-control to look back to that day. Events I can remember with
composure. To events, therefore, let me return.
No communication of any sort reached us from the Cur. Towards evening, I
saw him pacing up and down on the road before the cottage, and speaking
to his new servant. The man (listening attentively) had the master's book
of leaves in his hand, and wrote in it from time to time as replies were
wanted from him. He was probably receiving instructions. The Cur's
discretion was a bad sign.
Pages:
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165