Three Weeks

Throughout the repast his lady bewildered him with her wild fascination. Never before had she seemed to collect all her moods into one subtle whole, cemented together by passionate love. It truly was a night of the gods, and the exaltation of Paul's spirit had reached its zenith.

"My Paul," she said, when at last only the rare fruits and the golden wine remained, and they were quite alone--even the musicians had retired, and their airs floated up from a gondola below. "My Paul, I want you never to forget this night--never to think of me but as gloriously happy, clasped in your arms amid the roses. And see, we must drink once more together of our wedding wine, and complete our souls' delight."

An eloquence seemed to come to Paul and loosen his tongue, so that he whispered back paeans of worship in language as fine as her own. And the moon flooded the loggia with her light, and the roses gave forth their scent. It was the supreme effort of art and nature to cover them with glorious joy.

"My darling one," the lady whispered in his ear, as she lay in his arms on the couch of roses, crushed deep and half buried in their velvet leaves, "this is our souls' wedding. In life and in death they can never part more."

* * * * *

Dawn was creeping through the orchid blinds of their sleeping chamber when this strange Queen disengaged herself from her lover's embrace, and bent over him, kissing his young curved lips. He stirred not--the languor of utter prostration was upon him, and held him in its grasp. In the uncertain light his sleep looked pale as death.

The lady gazed at him, an anguish too deep for tears in her eyes. For was not this the end--the very end? Fierce, dry sobs shook her. There was something terrible and tigerish in her grief. And yet her will made her not linger--there was still one thing to do.

She rose and turned to the writing-table by the window, then drawing the blind aside a little she began rapidly to write. When she had finished, without reading the missive over, she went and placed it with a flat leather jewel-case on her pillow beside Paul. And soon she commenced a madness of farewells--all restrained and gentle for fear he should awake.

"My love, my love," she wailed between her kisses, "God keep you safe--though He may never bring you back to me."

Then with a wild, strangled sob, she fled from the room.