“Hush, Babette,” said he. “Tell me everything.”
She waited a little while:
“I have loved thee for love, Horace.” She smiled sadly and stroked his hand. “Must I love now for livelihood?... To me the moonlight nights by lake and river can never be the nights they have been with thee. And he who walks beside me must needs feel it so.... You go home, Horace, to life—I go on here, growing old, year by year. I have been sitting here in the dark, peering at the years. One day the gaiety will go out of my heart, the freshness out of my looks, the colour out of my face, the light out of my eyes. Men turn and look at me now—their eyes smile at me. The time will come when men’s eyes will pass me by. Students in the Boule Miche will say, ‘She was some clever fellow’s mistress—once.’ And there will be laughter. So, one day I shall sit at the tables—alone; my only prospect—the grave. Yet—with some—memories.... My haggard eyes have been staring at these things all through the long night, and the disillusioning dawn has but confirmed the nightmare.... Yet, Horace, dear heart, I have done nothing to deserve it—except in loving thee ... except in loving thee, dear heart.”
The tears brimmed over her eyelids, and her voice was stayed in a sob.
Horace took her tear-wet face between his hands and kissed her upon the eyes and mouth:
“Listen, Babette,” said he hoarsely—“thou hast wept thy last and thy only tears for any harshness from me. Dost thou think, dear heart, that I who have never found thee guilty of the smallest meanness will leave thee alone because, forsooth, thou hast loved me well! Dost thou think that thy dear hands and thy sight and thy breath and thy hearing and thy sweet bosom are not become a part of me! Tush! we have been married these many months. In a month from now thou must go through the law’s farce with me—but thou art my very wife—thou canst be no more to me than that, nor I to thee——”
“No, Horace—thou hadst better leave me. It would be a jibe against thee——”
“Tush!” He laughed huskily. “Thy train and steamboat passage are bought hours ago—there is a room preparing for thee in my father’s house.... Thou canst surely bear to be a maid again for thirty days!”
She laughed, and flung her arms about him and kissed his hair:
“I love thee, fool,” she said; “and will share thy folly....”