VII
Madeleine, Madeleine de....
But no. I must not write her name!
I had met her the year before—that would be year before last, the year 1907. It was the month of May, I believe, but of that I cannot be sure. It seems so long, long ago, such a frightfully long, long, time ago! My memory is faltering like a waning candle flame flickering above its last drop of molten wax, sputtering with bursts of blue and yellow light as it is about to die out!
So then, the month of May, in the year 1907.... At this moment, a clearer flash of my memory comes—I see everything as vividly as I lived it then.
It was in the courtyard of the castle at La Garde. I had strolled up the winding path to the ancient ruins; and behind the tower of the old donjon, I found ... Madeleine sitting on the last step of the stairway leading up to the postern. She turned at the sound of my footsteps and she blushed. That blush told me I had intruded on a very personal, a very intimate, reverie. At our feet stretched the leprous plain and beyond the southern limit of the plain, the sea. A radiant sky, not a trace of vapor veiling the glare of the naked sun! The ugly plain caught fire from the rain of light, became beautiful for a moment. It was one of those golden days, when the chest can scarcely contain the exultant throbbing of a drunken heart!
When my eyes fell on the greenish golden hair of Madeleine, my heart began to throb intoxicated. When her emerald eyes fell on me, my bosom heaved with an inner, ecstatic joy.
Later we knew that that instant had been the beginning of our love; for Madeleine confessed to me that a deep mysterious thrill had moved her also, at sight of my own enthralling emotion.... And the incredible horror of it all! That was not quite two years ago. And this hollow bag of crackling bones was I, I, a young, strong, hopeful man, loved and in love! Less than two years ago!
Sometime later: a fiesta at a sumptuous country house, looking down on the sea! Precipitous promontories, into which the maritime fir trees shot their roots and hung out horizontally above the foaming surf! Paths winding in and out among the trees—and lanterns, lanterns everywhere, shedding a soft and mellow light about the groves!
There I saw Madeleine a second time!
An evening gown of cloth-of-silver, cut low over splendid shoulders; and my eyes lingered on them with imperious desire!
We met by a balustrade hanging out over the sea. The subdued murmur of the breakers softened the echo of our voices. In the distance the wail of violins! Other couples walking to and fro on the path behind us! A man and woman came up to our terrace, broke the silence of our communion, went away again!
We talked of indifferent things—the small change of conversation, withholding words of deeper import. We sat there for a long time. One by one the lanterns burned themselves out. A red oval moon came up out of the sea, reached out along the water in the outline of a glistening, elongated cypress tree. The violins fell silent.
We walked back toward the villa.
Madeleine rested a cold hand on my arm. A sudden exaltation came over me. That woman whom I had so passionately loved under the hot sunglow of an afternoon was now at my side. We were alone in that pine grove, alone under that moonlight! I threw an arm about her shoulders, drew her toward me, and pressed my lips to her lips in a kiss she did not avoid.
This was less than two years ago! It is Hell to remember it now!