Emile walked up and down the room as he listened. He had made her sing
in the hope of lessening in a small degree the strain he was enduring,
but what had possessed her to choose this song of all others? The
words told of one who was about to set sail, and lingered bidding adieu
to his Nina, the woman he loved.
"_Le jour ou quittant la terre pour l'ocean,
Je dis, priez Dieu, priez Dieu pour votre enfant.
Avant que nous mettre en route je crus revoir,
Nina! qui pleurait sans doute de desespoir._"
One could hear the rocking of the boat at anchor, the rippling of the
out-going tide.
In the second verse the time was changed, the words were hurried and
insistent.
"_Nina! si je succombe, el qu'un beau soir,
Une blanche colombe vient te voir,
Ouvre-lui ta fenetre car ce sera,
Mon ame qui peut-etre te reviendra._"
Her voice had grown weaker since her illness, and she sang with visible
exertion and faulty breathing, but it was still the golden voice of the
Israelitish woman, and there was the same _timbre_ that had attracted
him, and made him speak to her that afternoon in May at the station.
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