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Updated: June 7, 2025
"Come, let us begin," she said. "I waited for your new clothes to be finished, and we must make up for lost time." "But do you know, Yoletta, that you have not said anything about them? Do I look nice; and will you like me any better now?" "Yes, much better. You were a poor caterpillar before; I liked you a little because I knew what a pretty butterfly you would be in time.
In my secret heart I believed that he was taking much too lofty a view of the matter; but I had no desire to argue against so flattering a delusion, if it were one, and only wished that I could share it with him. "She is sleeping still," he said presently, "perhaps without pain, like Yoletta here, and her sleep will now probably last for some hours."
"The words of the song," I said. "I do not know what you mean by the words of a song. Do not speak to me now, Smith." "Oh, very well," said I, thinking it all very strange, and sitting down I divided my attention between my beautiful hose and Yoletta, still slowly pacing the floor with that absent look on her face.
She continued looking at me, until for very shame I turned my face aside; for if I had confessed that separation from Yoletta caused my dejection, she would know what that feeling meant, and I feared that any such premature declaration would be the ruin of my prospects. "I know the reason, though I ask you," she continued, placing a hand on my shoulder.
How perfect my happiness would have been then, with Yoletta in my arms, clasping her weary little ministering hands in mine, and tenderly kissing her dark, shining hair, but for the fear that some person might come there to notice and disturb me. And pretty soon I was startled to see the father himself coming from Chastel's chamber to us.
Remembering my happy wood-cutting days, before my trouble had come to me, I got my ax and started to walk to the wood; then seeing Yoletta watching my departure from the terrace, I waved my hand to her. Before I had gone far, however, she came running to me, full of anxiety, to warn me that I was not yet strong enough for such work.
"Ah, you say that because you are a child yet, and do not know. You are even younger than I thought, perhaps. How old are you, dear?" "Thirty-one years old," she replied, with the utmost gravity. "Oh, Yoletta, what an awful cram! I mean oh, I beg your pardon for being so rude! But but don't you think you can draw it mild? Thirty-one what a joke!
I had already accomplished more than a day's work, but the fever in my blood and brain urged me on to the arduous task of lopping off the huge branches; and my exertions did not cease until once more the world, with everything on it, began revolving like a whirligig, compelling me to desist and take a still longer rest. And sitting there I thought only of Yoletta.
Here Yoletta pushed a glass door aside and ushered me into another apartment the Mother's Room. It was spacious, and, unlike the gallery, well-lighted; the air in it was also warm and balmy, and seemed charged with a subtle aroma. But now my whole attention was concentrated on a group of persons before me, and chiefly on its central figure the woman I had so much desired to see.
Nor did I ask who their successors would be: for albeit long-lived, they were mortal like their own passionless children, and in this particular house their lives appeared now to be drawing to an end. These were questions I cared nothing about. It was enough to know that Yoletta could never love me as I loved her that she could never be mine, body and soul, in my way and not in hers.
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