“As long as you love me.”
“I shall always love you.”
“Non!... Non!... It ees not possible. In a day, in a week—I do not know when—you will go away, and I will be sad.”
“I don’t know when I shall have to go, nor where I shall have to go.... It is the war.... But whenever and wherever, I shall love you.”
“It is well—but—but I do not believe you.... Oh, life it is not well! It is our besoin—our need—to find many little minutes. That is the best of life. I know.... Much sadness, much loneliness ... but now and then the little minutes of happiness.”
He was hanging her tam-o’-shanter on the hall tree, then he led her into the salon with its bronze statues and its gilded furniture, at which she did not wrinkle her nose this time, for she was in serious mood.
“Are you always happy?” she asked.
“I’m not often unhappy.”
“That is ver’ well—yes.... It is not so well as to be happy, but it is better than to be sad.... Me, I am often sad.”
“I’ll put a stop to that. From now on you must be happy.”