It was in the morning; it was in November. We had just passed the anniversary of the fatal day which these flowers recalled.
"Que ferai-je sans Eurydice?"
While I was putting the white chrysanthemums into a vase the air from "Orpheus" sang in my memory. There reappeared in my mind certain fragments of the singular scene that had taken place the year previous, and I saw Juliana again in that warm and golden light, in that suave perfume, in the midst of all those objects bearing the imprint of feminine grace, to which the phantom of the ancient melody seemed to impart the palpitation of a secret life, to spread the shadow of I know not what mystery. Had not these flowers awakened in her also some remembrance?
A mortal sorrow weighed on my soul—the sorrow of an inconsolable lover. The Other presented himself before me, and his eyes were as gray as those of the intruder.
The doctor said to me from the alcove:
"You may open the window. It is well to have the room well aired, to have plenty of sunlight enter."
"Oh, yes, yes, open it!" cried the invalid.
I opened it. At this moment my mother entered, together with the wet-nurse, who had Raymond in her arms. I remained between the curtains, and leaned against the balustrade and looked out on the landscape. Behind me I heard the familiar voices.
We had arrived at the end of November. Already the summer of the Dead had passed. A great vacuous light extended over the humid country, over the noble and peaceful profile of the hillsides. It seemed that through the confused tops of the olive plants a silvery vapor was circulating. Here and there several threads of smoke whitened in the sun. The breeze bore, at intervals, the light rustling of falling leaves. The rest was only peace and silence.
"Why," I thought, "did she sing that morning? Why, on hearing her, did I feel so agitated?" She seemed to me another woman. Was she then in love with him? To what condition of her soul did that unusual effusion correspond? She sang because she loved. Perhaps I am mistaken. But I shall never know the truth.