Camille [27]
one hand on her heart, and letting the other hang by her side. On the table was a basin half full of water, and the water was stained with streaks of blood.
Very pale, her mouth half open, Marguerite tried to recover breath. Now and again her bosom was raised by a long sigh, which seemed to relieve her a little, and for a few seconds she would seem to be quite comfortable.
I went up to her; she made no movement, and I sat down and took the hand which was lying on the sofa.
"Ah! it is you," she said, with a smile.
I must have looked greatly agitated, for she added:
"Are you unwell, too?"
"No, but you: do you still suffer?"
"Very little;" and she wiped off with her handkerchief the tears which the coughing had brought to her eyes; "I am used to it now."
"You are killing yourself, madame," I said to her in a moved voice. "I wish I were a friend, a relation of yours, that I might keep you from doing yourself harm like this."
"Ah! it is really not worth your while to alarm yourself," she replied in a somewhat bitter tone; "see how much notice the others take of me! They know too well that there is nothing to be done."
Thereupon she got up, and, taking the candle, put it on the mantel-piece and looked at herself in the glass.
"How pale I am!" she said, as she fastened her dress and passed her fingers over her loosened hair. "Come, let us go back to supper. Are you coming?"
I sat still and did not move.
She saw how deeply I had been affected by the whole scene, and, coming up to me, held out her hand, saying:
"Come now, let us go."
I took her hand, raised it to my lips, and in spite of myself two tears fell upon it.
"Why, what a child you are!" she said, sitting down by my side again. "You are crying! What is the matter?"
"I must seem very silly to you, but I am frightfully troubled by what I have just seen."
"You are very good! What would you have of me? I can not sleep. I must amuse myself a little. And then, girls like me, what does it matter, one more or less? The doctors tell me that the blood I spit up comes from my throat; I pretend to believe them; it is all I can do for them."
"Listen, Marguerite," I said, unable to contain myself any longer; "I do not know what influence you are going to have over my life, but at this present moment there is no one, not even my sister, in whom I feel the interest which I feel in you. It has been just the same ever since I saw you. Well, for Heaven's sake, take care of yourself, and do not live as you are living now."
"If I took care of myself I should die. All that supports me is the feverish life I lead. Then, as for taking care of oneself, that is all very well for women with families and friends; as for us, from the moment we can no longer serve the vanity or the pleasure of our lovers, they leave us, and long nights follow long days. I know it. I was in bed for two months, and after three weeks no one came to see me."
"It is true I am nothing to you," I went on, "but if you will let me, I will look after you like a brother, I will never leave your side, and I will cure you. Then, when you are strong again, you can go back to the life you are leading, if you choose; but I am sure you will come to prefer a quiet life, which will make you happier and keep your beauty unspoiled."
"You think like that to-night because the wine has made you sad, but you would never have the patience that you pretend to."
"Permit me to say, Marguerite, that you were ill for two months, and that for two months I came to ask after you every day."
"It is true, but why did you not come up?"
"Because I did not know you then."
"Need you have been so particular with a girl like me?"
"One must always be particular with a woman; it is what I feel, at least."
"So you would look after me?"
"Yes."
"You would stay by me all day?"
"Yes.
"And even all night?"
"As long as I did not weary you."
"And what do you call that?"
"Devotion."
"And what does this devotion come from?"
"The irresistible sympathy which I have
Very pale, her mouth half open, Marguerite tried to recover breath. Now and again her bosom was raised by a long sigh, which seemed to relieve her a little, and for a few seconds she would seem to be quite comfortable.
I went up to her; she made no movement, and I sat down and took the hand which was lying on the sofa.
"Ah! it is you," she said, with a smile.
I must have looked greatly agitated, for she added:
"Are you unwell, too?"
"No, but you: do you still suffer?"
"Very little;" and she wiped off with her handkerchief the tears which the coughing had brought to her eyes; "I am used to it now."
"You are killing yourself, madame," I said to her in a moved voice. "I wish I were a friend, a relation of yours, that I might keep you from doing yourself harm like this."
"Ah! it is really not worth your while to alarm yourself," she replied in a somewhat bitter tone; "see how much notice the others take of me! They know too well that there is nothing to be done."
Thereupon she got up, and, taking the candle, put it on the mantel-piece and looked at herself in the glass.
"How pale I am!" she said, as she fastened her dress and passed her fingers over her loosened hair. "Come, let us go back to supper. Are you coming?"
I sat still and did not move.
She saw how deeply I had been affected by the whole scene, and, coming up to me, held out her hand, saying:
"Come now, let us go."
I took her hand, raised it to my lips, and in spite of myself two tears fell upon it.
"Why, what a child you are!" she said, sitting down by my side again. "You are crying! What is the matter?"
"I must seem very silly to you, but I am frightfully troubled by what I have just seen."
"You are very good! What would you have of me? I can not sleep. I must amuse myself a little. And then, girls like me, what does it matter, one more or less? The doctors tell me that the blood I spit up comes from my throat; I pretend to believe them; it is all I can do for them."
"Listen, Marguerite," I said, unable to contain myself any longer; "I do not know what influence you are going to have over my life, but at this present moment there is no one, not even my sister, in whom I feel the interest which I feel in you. It has been just the same ever since I saw you. Well, for Heaven's sake, take care of yourself, and do not live as you are living now."
"If I took care of myself I should die. All that supports me is the feverish life I lead. Then, as for taking care of oneself, that is all very well for women with families and friends; as for us, from the moment we can no longer serve the vanity or the pleasure of our lovers, they leave us, and long nights follow long days. I know it. I was in bed for two months, and after three weeks no one came to see me."
"It is true I am nothing to you," I went on, "but if you will let me, I will look after you like a brother, I will never leave your side, and I will cure you. Then, when you are strong again, you can go back to the life you are leading, if you choose; but I am sure you will come to prefer a quiet life, which will make you happier and keep your beauty unspoiled."
"You think like that to-night because the wine has made you sad, but you would never have the patience that you pretend to."
"Permit me to say, Marguerite, that you were ill for two months, and that for two months I came to ask after you every day."
"It is true, but why did you not come up?"
"Because I did not know you then."
"Need you have been so particular with a girl like me?"
"One must always be particular with a woman; it is what I feel, at least."
"So you would look after me?"
"Yes."
"You would stay by me all day?"
"Yes.
"And even all night?"
"As long as I did not weary you."
"And what do you call that?"
"Devotion."
"And what does this devotion come from?"
"The irresistible sympathy which I have