“No,” I said, “remain in the saddle and hold my horse; we shall go away again soon. Wait for me behind these trees.”
I left him and walked toward the house, taking a roundabout way in order to avoid being seen by the persons on the terrace; I was certain that they had not seen me before, for they were not looking in my direction. At last I reached the garden where I had seen them; a hedge concealed me. I saw the edge of the terrace, but I could not look into the garden. There was a walnut tree within a few feet of me; I looked about to see if anyone was observing me, and in a few seconds I was in the tree. From there I could look into the garden easily and had no fear of being seen.
There they were; they were coming in my direction from a path where they had been out of my sight. Henriette ran about playing. Her mother walked slowly, her eyes often on the ground, or gazing listlessly about. Ah! how much lovelier than ever my daughter appeared to me! How happy I was when she turned her head in my direction!
They drew near. The mother sat down on a bench near the corner of the wall. She had a book, but she placed it by her side and did not read. Why did she not read? Of what was she thinking? She did not talk with her daughter; her brow was careworn and her eyes were heavy. Was she already weary of dissipation?
Henriette ran to her and offered her some flowers which she had just plucked. She took her daughter between her knees, gazed at her, and suddenly kissed her several times in a sort of frenzy, then released her and relapsed into a reverie.
Never had she embraced her daughter like that in my presence; was it that she was afraid of pleasing me by allowing me to witness the caresses which she bestowed upon our child?
Nearly an hour passed. She was still there, sitting on the bench, not reading, from time to time glancing at her daughter, who was playing on the terrace. And I gave no thought to the passing of time, to poor Pettermann who was waiting for me; I could not turn my eyes away from that garden.
Suddenly, as she ran toward her mother, Henriette made a false step and fell on her face. I uttered a cry simultaneously with Eugénie. She ran to the child, lifted her up and kissed her; the little one cried a little, but soon became calm and smiled, and I heard her say:
“It isn’t anything, mamma.”
Thereupon Eugénie looked about in every direction. Still holding her daughter in her arms, she walked to the edge of the terrace and looked out upon the road. I heard her say to her daughter: