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Updated: May 26, 2025
They have become inseparable, Arrochkoa, Ramuntcho, and they talk freely of their projects about Gracieuse, Arrochkoa seduced especially by the attraction of some fine prowess, by the joy of taking a nun away from the church, of undoing the plans of his old, hardened mother, and Ramuntcho, in spite of his Christian scruples which affect him still, making of this dangerous project his only hope, his only reason for being and for acting.
"Where shall we live, Gracieuse?" asked Ramuntcho one night. "At your house, I had thought." "Ah! yes, so thought I only I thought it would make you sad to be so far from the parish, from the church and the square " "Oh with you, I could find anything sad? "Then, we would send away those who live on the first floor and take the large room which opens on the road to Hasparitz "
And then, at each reminiscence, at each step, engraved itself and hammered itself in his mind, under a new form, this verdict without recourse: "It is finished, you are alone forever, Gracieuse has been taken away from you and is in prison " The rents in his heart, every accident in the path renewed and changed them.
With a childish joy, he saw the assurance of a radiant weather for that All-Saints' Day which was to bring to him all that he knew of this world's festivals: the chanted high mass, the game of pelota before the assembled village, then, at last, the dance of the evening with Gracieuse, the fandango in the moon-light on the church square.
And so, in that instant of decisive reflection, after having hesitated for years, she inclined more and more to remain stubborn in her silence with regard to the stranger and to let pass humbly near her the life of her Ramuntcho, under the protecting looks of the Virgin and the saints. There remained unsolved the question of Gracieuse Detcharry.
But when, for the third time, Gracieuse bites the same place, and shows again the little tip of her tongue, he bends over, vanquished by the irresistible giddiness, and bites also, takes in his mouth, like a beautiful red fruit which one fears to crush, the fresh lip which the mosquito has bitten
He did not dare, not having played for three years and distrusting his unaccustomed arm. At last, he yielded and began to undress but to whom would he trust his waistcoat now? The image reappeared to him, suddenly, of Gracieuse, seated on the nearest steps and extending her hands to receive it. To whom would he throw his waistcoat to-day?
And as soon as Gracieuse entered there, at night, in the dying ring of the bells leaving the pale half-light of the graveyard full of roses for the starry night of the wax tapers which reigned already in the church, quitting the odor of hay and of roses for that of incense and of the tall, cut lilies, passing from the lukewarm and living air outside to that heavy and sepulchral cold that centuries amass in old sanctuaries a particular calm came at once to her mind, a pacifying of all her desires, a renunciation of all her terrestrial joys.
It was favorable also and tempting for lovers, that tepid period which followed the full moon of March, for it was dark everywhere around the houses, dark in all the paths domed with trees, and very dark, behind the Detcharry orchard, on the abandoned path where nobody ever passed. Gracieuse lived more and more on her bench in front of her door.
In the southwest, the visible portion of Spain, the denuded and red peak familiar to smugglers, stands straight and near in the beautiful clear sky. Gracieuse does not appear yet, retarded doubtless by the nuns in some altar service.
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