She came closer to me, and fixing her eyes on me with tragic intensity, said in the voice of the broken-hearted:
“Gaston had forgotten his dog!”
It was like Francezka to make a huge mountain of a thing like this. Therefore, I replied gravely:
“That is very sad and very bad, but at least, Gaston remembered you. And after all, Madame, you did attach a ridiculous consequence to the dog.”
“Did I?” cried Francezka, with the first flash of her old resentful imperious spirit that I had yet seen breaking out. “A ridiculous consequence to the creature my husband left me to be my friend and companion during his absence? And told me whenever I looked into 363 Bold’s faithful eyes I was to see his—Gaston’s—faith reflected there, for dogs never forget! And was not Bold the only living thing, except yourself, who gave me any comfort in these last seven years? Really, Babache, I can not love you any longer, if you say such things.”
It was a trifle, but I saw that the indifference between Bold and his master troubled her.
“Do you know, Madame,” said I, “that when one reaches the very heights of happiness—near the blue heavens—the least little speck of unhappiness is visible?”
“True,” replied Francezka, her somber eyes brightening. “To think, after what I have suffered for seven years that I let this trifle—yes, Babache, your word was the right one—give me one clouded moment. But—” her eyes were darkened again; “no one walks those heights of happiness long. It is only for a short time that one can live in that too pure air. The old Greeks knew this.”
“Madame,” said I, “give me leave to say that you have lived too much with your own thoughts and emotions for your own good. No human being, least of all a sensitive woman, could have endured what you have for so long without retaining some marks of it. So, although I am only Babache, a savage Tatar prince, the son of a poor notary in the Marais, yet, take my advice: be happy when you have achieved your heart’s desire and trouble not yourself with old dogs or old Greeks, either.”
Francezka’s face suddenly dimpled into smiles. The sun came out radiantly at that moment, and the grass 364 and trees, diamond hung, glittered in the golden sheen of the morning. The earth seemed new-born; life and joy seemed new created. Francezka looked toward the château and waved her hands to Gaston, on his way to the stables. He turned and came toward her. I could not but remark how comely a man he was. He had never been a beautiful creature, like poor silly Bellegarde, but a good figure of a man, with regular and well-marked features, full of grace and intelligence. In a minute or two he had joined us. I had not before noticed the behavior of Gaston and the dog to each other, but now I observed that when Gaston approached, Bold exhibited an active dislike toward his former master.