"Are you joking?"
"Why, my dear fellow, I suppose you don't take her for a woman of
twenty?"
He drew a long breath and leaned against a house, looking at me with
questioning, protesting, reproachful eyes. At last, starting forward,
and grasping my arm--"Answer me solemnly: does she seem to you truly old?
Is she wrinkled, is she faded, am I blind?"
Then at last I understood the immensity of his illusion how, one by one,
the noiseless years had ebbed away and left him brooding in charmed
inaction, for ever preparing for a work for ever deferred. It seemed to
me almost a kindness now to tell him the plain truth. "I should be sorry
to say you are blind," I answered, "but I think you are deceived. You
have lost time in effortless contemplation. Your friend was once young
and fresh and virginal; but, I protest, that was some years ago. Still,
she has _de beaux restes_. By all means make her sit for you!" I broke
down; his face was too horribly reproachful.
He took off his hat and stood passing his handkerchief mechanically over
his forehead.
Pages:
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59