"My child, it is God who taught thee. It is something thou hast to teach me now."
"Sir, is it anything about myself?" I chose to say so, but did not think it.
"No; about some one those eyes of thine do love to watch and wait on, so that sometimes I am almost jealous of thine eyes! But it cannot be a hardened jealousy while they are so baby-kind."
"It is Maria, then, sir, of course. But they are not babies,—my eyes, I mean; for they know all about her, and so do I. I know why sometimes she seems looking through us instead of at us. It is because she is seeing other eyes in her soul, and our eyes are only just eyes to her, and nothing else,—you know what I mean, sir?"
I said all this because I had an instinctive dread of his self-betrayal beyond what was needed. Alas! I had not even curiosity left. But I was mistaken in him, so far. He leaned forwards, stroked my hair, and kissed it.
"Whose eyes, then, Carlomein?"
"My master, Anastase, is that person whose eyes I mean."
"Impossible! But I was wrong to ask thee. Assuredly, thou art an infant, and couldst even make me smile. That is a fancy only. Not Anastase, my child! Any one but Anastase."
What anguish curled beneath those coaxing tones!
"Sir, I know nothing about it, except that it is true. But that it is true I do know, for Maria told me so herself; and they will be married as soon as she is educated." I trembled as I spoke in sore dismay; for the truth was borne to me that moment in a flash of misery, and all I could feel was what I was fool enough to say, "Oh that I were Maria!" He turned to me in an instant; made a sort of motion with both his arms, like wings, having released the hand I held. I looked up now, and saw that a more awful paleness—a virgin shadow appalling as that of death—had fixed his features. I threw myself into his arms; he was very still, mute, all gentleness. I kissed the glistening dress, the spangled sleeves. He moved not, murmured not. At last my tears would flow. They rushed, they scalded; I called out of the midst of them, and heard that my own voice, child as I was, fell hollow through my hot lips.