United States or United Kingdom ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
The memory of himself, or of the other? He must know, he must know! "This way," said Dr. Sims. "We will go to the end of the alley, and meet her face to face." "Courage!" whispered Fargeas. Zilah followed; and, in a few steps, they reached the end of the alley, and stood beneath a clump of leafy trees.
"Well, now? Now?" demanded Andras, awaiting the word which, in her overstrung condition, Marsa had almost spoken. "Now?" But she did not speak these words which Zilah begged for with newly awakened hope. She longed to end this interview which was killing her, and in broken accents asked him to excuse her, to forgive her but she was really ill.
After so many trials, it was all to end in this: an open grave, in which his hopes were to be buried. What remained to him now? At the age when one has no recourse against fate, love, the one love of his life, was to be taken away from him. Varhely had administered justice, and Zilah had pardoned for what? To watch together a silent tomb; yes, yes, what remained to him now?
Ah! what an impossible dream it seemed, and yet it was realized now. At all events, a man's death did not lie between her and Zilah. Michel Menko, after lying at death's door, was cured of his wounds. She knew this from Baroness Dinati, who attributed Michel's illness to a sword wound secretly received for some woman. This was the rumor in Paris.
Sims shared the opinion of his colleague. Having taken the invalid away, and separated her from every thing that could recall the past, the physicians thought, that, by suddenly confronting her with a person so dear to her as Prince Zilah, the shock and emotion might rouse her from her morbid state.
And going to the children, her sweet, frank eyes becoming sad at a quarrel between her little ones, she gently took the baby away from the oldest child, who cried, and went into a corner to pout, regarding his mother with the same impudent air which Zilah had perceived in the curl of Jacquemin's lips when the reporter complained of the dearth of pretty women.
The Tzigana made no reply; but, going to Andras Zilah, she took his arm; while Michel, as if nothing had happened, raised his hat. General Vogotzine, with flaming face, followed his niece, muttering, as he wiped the perspiration unsteadily from his face: "Fine day! Fine day! By Jove! But the sun was hot, though! Ah, and the wines were good!"
The Count did not tell us exactly where he was going, however, but to America, somewhere. We only know, the coachman Pierre, and myself, that the Count will not return again to Paris. We are still in his service, however, and are to await his orders." Hesitating a little, the servant added: "Have I not the honor to speak to Prince Zilah?" "Why?" asked Andras.
Menko remained but a few moments, evidently embarrassed at his reception; and after his departure, Zilah, who had noticed the Tzigana's coldness, asked her if she knew his friend. "Very well," she said, in a peculiar tone. "It would be difficult to imagine so from the way in which you received him," said Andras, laughing. "Poor Michel! Have you any reason to be angry with him?" "None."
He already felt stifled in the uniform, which he was no longer accustomed to wear, and he went out in the garden to breathe freer. While waiting there for Zilah, he ordered some cherry cordial, muttering, as he drank it: "It is beautiful August weather. They will have a fine day; but I shall suffocate!" The avenue was already filled with people.
Word Of The Day