Has it ever accused me of that, of happiness? Cruel, cruel!
I have paid my penalties, and a woman is not free to do as she will, but
would not I have gone to him, for a word, a sign? Yes, for the sake of my
childhood. And to-night when you showed me that,' her white hand swept over
the violin with something of a caress, 'I thought it had come, yes, from
the grave, and you make it more bitter by readings of your own. You strike
me hard.'
I bent forward in real humility, her voice had tears in it, though her
splendid eyes were hard.
'Forgive me, Madame! a vulgar stroke at random. I had no right to make it,
he told me only good of you. Forgive me, and for proof of your pardon--I am
serious now--take his violin.'
Her smile, as she refused me, was full of sad dignity.
'You have made it impossible, Monsieur! It would remind me only now of how
ill you think of me. I beg you to keep it.'
The music had died away suddenly, and its ceasing had been followed by
a loud murmur of applause. The prima-donna rose, and stood for a moment
observing me, irresolutely.
'I leave you and your violin, Monsieur! I have to sing presently, with such
voice as our talk has left me. I bid you both adieu!'
'Ah, Madame!' I deprecated, 'you will think again of this, I will send it
you in the morning.
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