"But stay!" I cried, recalling to mind all the women at Etiolles, from Madame Fauchard to Elise, the station-master's pretty daughter; recalling to my mind all but the right one. "But, stay!"
"That she was me, that my music was her—that every strand of her golden hair, every motion of her lips, every——"
Ah, then it began to dawn on me!
"Franzius," I cried, suddenly seizing him by the shoulders, "Franzius, is it Mademoiselle Eloise?"
"They call her that," replied the stricken one, "but for me she is my soul."
Then I embraced Franzius. It was the first time in my life that I had "embraced" a man French fashion. He and his old violin I took in my arms, nearly crushing them. Fool! fool! Double fool that I was not to have seen it before! Her sadness when I was with her, the way she lighted up when he was near! And I had fancied that she was in love with me!
There was a grain of cynical bitterness in that recollection, but so small a grain that it was swallowed up, perished for ever, in the honest joy that filled my heart.
I had done the right thing, I had prepared to sacrifice myself, and this was my reward.
Then the recollection of the old man upstairs came to me, and, bidding Franzius to wait for me, I ran from the room. I saw a servant on the stairs and called to him to bring wine and cigars to the gentleman in the library; then, two steps at a time, up I went to the dressing-room.
I knocked and opened the door without waiting for a reply. Beril was tying my guardian's cravat. I took him by the shoulders and marched him out of the room.