"Thank you, Agapit—I do not wish to go to-night."
"Oh, you self-willed one—you Lucifer!" said Agapit, wildly. "You dare-all, you conquer-all! Take care that you are not trapped."
"Come, show me a room," said Vesper, who was secretly gratified with the irrepressible delight of the Acadien in again seeing him,—a delight that could not be conquered by his anxiety.
"This evening the house is again full," said Agapit. "Rose is quite wearied; come softly up-stairs. I can give you but the small apartment next her own, but you must not rise early in the morning, and seek an interview with her."
Two angry red spots immediately appeared in Vesper's cheeks, and he stared haughtily at him.
Agapit snapped his fingers. "I trust you not that much, though if you had not come back, my confidence would have reached to eternity. You are unfortunately too nobly human,—why were you not divine? But I must not reproach. Have I not too been a lover? You are capable of all, even of talking through the wall with your beloved. You should have stayed away, you should have stayed away!" and, grumbling and shaking his head, he ushered his guest up-stairs, and into a tiny and exquisitely clean room, that contained only a bed, a table, a wash-stand, and one chair.
Agapit motioned Vesper to the chair, and sprawled himself half over the foot of the bed, half out the open window, while he talked to his companion, whose manner had a new and caressing charm that attracted him even more irresistibly than his former cool and somewhat careless one had done.
"Ah, why is life so?" he at last exclaimed, springing up, with a sigh. "Under all is such sadness. Your presence gives such joy. Why should it be denied us?"
Vesper stared at his shoes to hide the nervous tears that sprang to his eyes.
Agapit immediately averted his sorrowful glance. "You are not angry with me for my free speech?"