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Updated: June 22, 2025
But it was no angel; only the thing that is nearer heaven than anything else, a little human heart that is happy and innocent. Bébée had only one sorrow that night. The pear-blossoms were all dead; and no care could call them back even for an hour's blooming. "He did not think when he struck them down," she said to herself, regretfully.
"Hark, here, Bébée: my sister, who is a lone woman, as you know well, shall come and bide with you, and ask you nothing nothing at all only you shall just give her a crust, perhaps, and a few flowers to sell sometimes." "No, no," said the fourth; "that will not do.
Bébée went out with the brave broad silver clasps about her waist, and the tears wet on her cheeks for a grief not her own. To be killed just when one was young, and was loved liked that, and all the world was in its May-day flower! The silver felt cold to her touch as cold as though it were the dead girl's hands that held her.
A little laborious figure, with her petticoats twisted high, and her feet wet with the night dews, and her back bowed to the hoeing and clipping and raking among the blossoming plants. "How late you are working to-night, Bébée!" one or two called out, as they passed the gate. She looked up and smiled; but went on working while the white moon rose. She did not know what ailed her.
"The night is cool, and it is only seven o'clock. I will walk part of the way with you." "I am in a hurry because I have Annémie's patterns to do," said Bébée, glad that he spoke of a thing that she knew how to answer.
"If I could save a centime a day, I could buy a pair of stockings this time next year," thought Bébée, locking her shoes with her other treasures in her drawer the next morning, and taking her broom and pail to wash down her little palace.
Well, things went on in this way for some time, when one day my son-in-law brings home a young gorgio of singular and outrageous ugliness, and, without much preamble, says to me and mine, “This is my pal, ain’t he a beauty? fall down and worship him.” “Hold,” said I, “I for one will never consent to such foolishness.”’ ‘That was right, bebee, I think I should have done the same.’
She went quickly through three rooms, seeing no one and at the end of the third there were folding doors. "It is I Bébée." she said softly, as she pushed them gently apart; and she held out the two moss-rosebuds. Then the words died on her lips, and a great horror froze her, still and silent, there. She saw the dusky room as in a dream.
"I am going to learn to be very wise, dear," she told them; "I shall not have time to dance or to play." "But people are not merry when they are wise, Bébée," said Franz, the biggest boy. "Perhaps not," said Bébée: "but one cannot be everything, you know, Franz." "But surely, you would rather be merry than anything else?" "I think there is something better, Franz.
"I was reading and, Jeannot, his name is Flamen for the world, but I may call him Victor." "What do I care for his name?" "You asked it this morning." "More fool I. Why do you read? Reading is not for poor folk like you and me." Bébée smiled up at the white clear moon that sailed above the woods. She was not awake out of her dream. She only dimly heard the words he spoke.
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