“Come, madame,” said Madelaine—“here’s Hodendouche.”
Hodendouche entered the room with a set smile, and took off his cap.
Madelaine turned to him:
“Ah, Hodendouche,” said she—“what a climb to reach the stars!... But now you are here, pick up that box and take it downstairs; Madame will follow us in a minute.”
As the grunting Hodendouche shouldered the trunk, and, followed by Madelaine, left the room, Betty went to the bed and put the letter upon the white coverlet; and for awhile she lingered there.
She sat down on the side of the bed.
Ah, youth’s couch! what limitless imaginings hath thy pillow known! what vasty ambitions have burnt out upon thee! what schemings and plannings for the payments of the bare needs of life! Tears thou hast known, and sighs—but the stars glittered ever in the firmament even when it was darkest; and at every rebuff Resolution reborn put out wounded hands to the heights.
What hath he known of youth who peered through eyes so dullard that they saw but the dingy finger-marks upon the stairways to the attics of the palaces in the bohemia of his teens?
Who so weak of spirit that disdained to climb the stairs to the topmost garrets when the need was! For did we not sit there under the roof, expectant amidst the splendid galaxies whilst the workaday world did blink its myriad utilitarian street-lamps at our feet!
Ah, those gipsy days of our wander-years, when we strolled, careless of the infinities, along the blithe alleys of our youthful wayfarings, and every garret was the topmost chamber of a palace, and the rough bed but an excuse for splendid dreams!