Thus, little by little, he expressed what was
in his heart, and I watched Brigitte listening to him. Then, when he
arose to leave us, I accompanied him to the door and stood there;
pensively listening to the sound of his footsteps on the stairs.
Upon examining our trunks, we found that there were still a few things
needed before we could start; Smith was asked to purchase them. He was
remarkably active and enjoyed attending to matters of this kind. When I
returned to my apartments, I found him on the floor, strapping a trunk.
Brigitte was at the piano we had rented by the week during our stay. She
was playing one of those old airs, into which she put so much expression
and which were so dear to us. I stopped in the hall; every note reached
my ear distinctly; never had she sung so sadly, so divinely.
Smith was listening with pleasure; he was on his knees holding the buckle
of the strap in his hands. He fastened it, then looked about the room at
the other goods he had packed and covered with a linen cloth. Satisfied
with his work, he still remained kneeling in the same spot; Brigitte, her
hands on the keys, was looking out at the horizon. For the second time, I
saw tears fall from the young man's eyes; I was ready to shed tears
myself, and not knowing what was passing in me, I held out my hand to
him.
"Were you there?" asked Brigitte. She trembled and seemed surprised.
Pages:
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241