Noel stared up at him. 'Now!' she thought: I will.'
“Yes,” she said, “I know that's true, because I rushed, myself. I'd like you to know. We couldn't be married—there wasn't time. And—he was killed. But his son is alive. That's why I've been away so long. I want every one to know.” She spoke very calmly, but her cheeks felt burning hot.
The painter had made an upward movement of his hands, as if they had been jerked by an electric current, then he said quite quietly:
“My profound respect, mademoiselle, and my great sympathy. And your father?”
“It's awful for him.”
The painter said gently: “Ah! mademoiselle, I am not so sure. Perhaps he does not suffer so greatly. Perhaps not even your trouble can hurt him very much. He lives in a world apart. That, I think, is his true tragedy to be alive, and yet not living enough to feel reality. Do you know Anatole France's description of an old woman: 'Elle vivait, mais si peu.' Would that not be well said of the Church in these days: 'Elle vivait, mais si peu.' I see him always like a rather beautiful dark spire in the night-time when you cannot see how it is attached to the earth. He does not know, he never will know, Life.”
Noel looked round at him. “What do you mean by Life, monsieur? I'm always reading about Life, and people talk of seeing Life! What is it—where is it? I never see anything that you could call Life.”
The painter smiled.
“To 'see life'.” he said. “Ah! that is different. To enjoy yourself! Well, it is my experience that when people are 'seeing life' as they call it, they are not enjoying themselves. You know when one is very thirsty one drinks and drinks, but the thirst remains all the same. There are places where one can see life as it is called, but the only persons you will see enjoying themselves at such places are a few humdrums like myself, who go there for a talk over a cup of coffee. Perhaps at your age, though, it is different.”
Noel clasped her hands, and her eyes seemed to shine in the gloom. “I want music and dancing and light, and beautiful things and faces; but I never get them.”