Here it is. It must
be thoroughly used to water, anyhow, for it isn't saturated or even
damp at all. It is as dry as a piece of wood, and has not swelled a
bit. As my Lord Marquis certainly knows a great deal more about things
than I do, I thought I ought to bring it, and that it would interest
him."
Therewith the gardener showed Raphael the inexorable piece of skin;
there were barely six square inches of it left.
"Thanks, Vaniere," Raphael said. "The thing is very curious."
"What is the matter with you, my angel; you are growing quite white!"
Pauline cried.
"You can go, Vaniere."
"Your voice frightens me," the girl went on; "it is so strangely
altered. What is it? How are you feeling? Where is the pain? You are
in pain!--Jonathan! here! call a doctor!" she cried.
"Hush, my Pauline," Raphael answered, as he regained composure. "Let
us get up and go. Some flower here has a scent that is too much for
me. It is that verbena, perhaps."
Pauline flew upon the innocent plant, seized it by the stalk, and
flung it out into the garden; then, with all the might of the love
between them, she clasped Raphael in a close embrace, and with
languishing coquetry raised her red lips to his for a kiss.
"Dear angel," she cried, "when I saw you turn so white, I understood
that I could not live on without you; your life is my life too.
Pages:
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322