“You sleep very soundly, dear. Yet I have a great many things to say; won’t you talk a little?”
As I spoke I—touched her shoulder with the tip of my finger, and saw her suddenly shiver.
“Come,” said I; “must I kiss you to wake you up altogether?”
She could not help smiling, and I saw that she was blushing.
“Oh! do not be afraid, dear; I will only kiss the tips of your fingers gently, like that,” and seeing that she let me do so, I sat down on the bed.
She gave a little cry. I had sat down on her foot, which was straying beneath the bedclothes.
“Please let me go to sleep,” she said, with a supplicating air; “I am so tired.”
“And how about myself, my dear child? I am ready to drop. See, I am in evening dress, and have not a pillow to rest my head on, not one, except this one.” I had her hand in mine, and I squeezed it while kissing it. “Would you be very vexed to lend this pillow to your husband? Come, are you going to refuse me a little bit of room? I am not troublesome, I can assure you.”
I thought I noted a smile on her lips, and, impatient to escape from my delicate position, in a moment I rose, and, while continuing to converse, hastelessly and noiselessly undressed. I was burning my ships. When my ships were burned there was absolutely nothing left for me to do but to get into bed.
Louise gave a little cry, then she threw herself toward the wall, and I heard a kind of sob.