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Updated: May 10, 2025
"There is no feeling here," said the doctor; "I could prick it with a pin without causing any sensation of pain." Then, again placing his hand upon Marsa's forehead, he tried to rouse some memory in the dormant brain: "Come, Madame, some one is waiting for you. Your uncle your uncle wishes you to play for him upon the piano! Your uncle! The piano!"
They were alone at last; free to exchange those eternal vows which they had just taken before the altar and sealed with a long, silent pressure when their hands were united; alone with their love, the devoted love they had read so long in each other's eyes, and which had burned, in the church, beneath Marsa's lowered lids, when the Prince had placed upon her finger the nuptial ring.
He must have debarked before reaching Paris, and have come to Maisons-Lafitte in haste. Marsa's only thought, in the first moment of anger, was to refuse to see him. "I can not," she thought, "I will not!" Then suddenly her mind changed. It was braver and more worthy of her to meet the danger face to face.
The light from an opal-tinted lamp fell full upon his face. He stood erect upon the threshold, while two other faces were turned toward him, two pale faces, Marsa's and another's. Andras paused in amazement. He had sought Menko; he found Varhely! "Yanski!"
The Prince advanced to meet her, his face luminous with happiness; and, taking the young girl's hands, he kissed the long lashes which rested upon her cheek, saying, as he contemplated the white vision of beauty before him: "How lovely you are, my Marsa! And how I love you!" The Prince spoke these words in a tone, and with a look, which touched the deepest depths of Marsa's heart.
In Marsa's eyes was a sort of wild excitement, a longing for sacrifice, a thirst for martyrdom. "Do I understand that you wish to enter a convent?" asked Andras, slowly. "Yes, the strictest and gloomiest. And into that tomb I shall carry, with your condemnation and farewell, the bitter regret of my love, the weight of my remorse!" The convent!
How these two beings had played with him; the woman who had lied to him, and the coward who had sent him those letters. Suddenly Marsa's voice fell upon his ear, that rich, contralto voice he knew so well, speaking in accents of love or joy. What was he waiting for? His hot, feverish hand sought the handle of his pistol, and, striding forward, he threw open the door of the room.
And while the Prince, in the carriage which bore him away, read the letters in which Marsa spoke of her love for another, and that other the man whom he called "my child;" while he paused in this agonizing reading to ask himself if it were true, if such a sudden annihilation of his happiness were possible, if so many misfortunes could happen in such a few hours; while he watched the houses and trees revolve slowly by him, and feared that he was going mad Marsa's servants ate the remnants of the lunch, and drank what was left of the champagne to the health of the Prince and Princess Zilah.
Or, at other times, with Duna and Bundas bounding before her, disappearing, returning, disappearing again with yelps of joy, it was Marsa's delight to wander alone under the great limes of the Albine avenue shade over her head, silence about her and then slowly, by way of a little alley bordered with lofty poplars trembling at every breath of wind, to reach the borders of the forest.
She met you years ago, in the saddest moment of your life." "Your mother?" said Andras, waiting anxiously for the young girl to continue. "Yes, my mother." She pointed to the buckle which clasped the belt of her dress. "See," she said. Andras felt a sudden pang, which yet was not altogether pain, dart through his heart, and his eyes wandered questioningly from the buckle to Marsa's face.
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