"No, my good aunt, never in my life have I said a wiser thing." Then I added, "Remember your promise." And kissing Hélène's hand, I said to her as I said every evening, "Bon soir, Hélène." Then I left the salon and went to my own room.
I have told how for a long time I had not dared to open the frame containing my father's portrait; but my happiness made me so brave that I found myself courageous enough to look upon that face which had so terrified me.
And, besides, I thought that on such a solemn moment in my life I should take counsel with my father; so, trembling in spite of my resolution, I opened the frame of the portrait.
CHAPTER VIII
THE PORTRAIT
It was night; the light from the candles shone brightly on the portrait. Why was it that, in spite of my joyful state of mind caused by my decision in regard to Hélène,—why should I feel so suddenly overcome with sadness as soon as I beheld the austere face of my father? Never had his sad and gloomy nature impressed me more powerfully. His high and bare forehead was preëminent; the deep-set eyes, overshadowed by their thick gray eyebrows, stared at me with piercing fixedness; the high cheek-bones, the hollow cheeks, the proud and severe expression of the mouth, even the dark colour of the vestments, hardly distinguishable from the background,—all was as I had last seen it and produced the same effect on me. I could see nothing but that pale face shining out of the obscurity.
I knelt down and remained a long time in meditation.
When I raised my head something quite natural in itself frightened me so badly that I shivered involuntarily. I fancied I saw, or rather I really did see, something like a brilliant tear roll down the cheeks of the portrait, and then fall in a cold drop on my hand, which was placed on the frame.
No words can express my terror; I remained for some moments paralysed with fright.
Then, overcoming this childish alarm, I went nearer to the portrait, and discovered that the combined heat and moisture of the room had caused a sort of dew to form on the canvas, which had been kept closed for such a length of time. I smiled sadly at my fright, but the impression had been so violent, that I could not get over my resentment. As I became more calm, I seated myself before the portrait.