XII
She reappeared in about an hour at the door, and beckoned me to her.
"Listen," said she; "if I should die, would you be sorry?"
"What singular ideas you have to-day," I exclaimed.
"I don't think that I shall live long; it often seems to me that everything about me is bidding me good-by. It is better to die than to live as – Ah! don't look at me so; I assure you that I'm not pretending; otherwise, I shall begin again to be afraid of you."
"Were you afraid of me then?"
"If I am queer, you must not reproach me. See, already I can no longer laugh."
She remained sad and preoccupied until the end of the evening. I could not understand what had come over her. Her eyes often rested upon me; my heart was oppressed under her enigmatic look. She appeared calm; nevertheless, in looking at her, I could not keep from saying something to lessen her trouble. I contemplated her with emotion; I found a touching charm in the pallor spread over her features, in the timidity of her indecisive movements. She all the while imagined that I was in a bad humor.
"Listen," she said to me before I left, "I fear that you do not take me seriously. In future believe all that I tell you; but you, in your turn, be frank with me; be sure that I shall never tell you anything but the truth, – I give you my word of honor!"
This expression, "word of honor," made me smile once more.
"Ah! don't laugh," said she vivaciously, "or I shall repeat what you told me yesterday, 'Why do you laugh?' Do you remember," added she, after a moment's silence, "that yesterday you spoke to me of wings? These wings have sprung forth. I don't know where to fly."
"Come, then," I replied, "all roads are open to you."
She looked at me earnestly for some moments.
"You have a bad opinion of me to-day," she said, frowning slightly.
"I! a bad opinion of you?"
"Why are you standing there, with those dismal faces?" asked Gaguine at that moment. "Do you wish me to play a waltz for you, as I did yesterday?"
"No, no," cried she, clasping her hands; "not for the world to-day!"
"Don't excite yourself; I don't wish to force you."
"Not for the world," repeated she, growing pale.
"Does she love me?" I thought, as I approached the Rhine, whose dark waters rushed rapidly along.