Camille (La Dame aux Camilias)

In this girl there was at once the virgin whom a mere nothing had turned

into a courtesan, and the courtesan whom a mere nothing would have

turned into the most loving and the purest of virgins. Marguerite had

still pride and independence, two sentiments which, if they are wounded,

can be the equivalent of a sense of shame. I did not speak a word; my

soul seemed to have passed into my heart and my heart into my eyes.

"So," said she all at once, "it was you who came to inquire after me

when I was ill?"

"Yes."

"Do you know, it was quite splendid of you! How can I thank you for it?"

"By allowing me to come and see you from time to time."

"As often as you like, from five to six, and from eleven to twelve. Now,

Gaston, play the Invitation A la Valse."

"Why?"

"To please me, first of all, and then because I never can manage to play

it myself."

"What part do you find difficult?"

"The third part, the part in sharps."

Gaston rose and went to the piano, and began to play the wonderful

melody of Weber, the music of which stood open before him.

Marguerite, resting one hand on the piano, followed every note on the

music, accompanying it in a low voice, and when Gaston had come to

the passage which she had mentioned to him, she sang out, running her

fingers along the top of the piano: "Do, re, mi, do, re, fa, mi, re; that is what I can not do. Over again."

Gaston began over again, after which Marguerite said: "Now, let me try."

She took her place and began to play; but her rebellious fingers always

came to grief over one of the notes.

"Isn't it incredible," she said, exactly like a child, "that I can not

succeed in playing that passage? Would you believe that I sometimes

spend two hours of the morning over it? And when I think that that idiot

of a count plays it without his music, and beautifully, I really believe

it is that that makes me so furious with him." And she began again,

always with the same result.

"The devil take Weber, music, and pianos!" she cried, throwing the music

to the other end of the room. "How can I play eight sharps one after

another?" She folded her arms and looked at us, stamping her foot. The

blood flew to her cheeks, and her lips half opened in a slight cough.