"That's the way I
should like to be kissed!" Oh, my dear, my dear, were you here
now, that is the way I should kiss you !
I have gone upstairs and wandered about her room. Antoinette has
prepared it for her reception to-night, as usual. The corner of
the bedclothes is turned down, and her night-dress, a gossamer
thing with cherry ribbons, laid out across the bed. At the foot
lie the familiar red slippers with the audacious heels; her
dressing-gown is thrown in readiness over the back of a chair;
even the brass hot water can stands in the basin--and it is still
hot. And I know that the foolish woman is wide-awake overhead
waiting for her darling. I kissed the pillow still fragrant of
her where her head rested last night, and I went downstairs with
a lump in my throat.
Again I sit at my work-table and, to save myself from going mad
with suspense, jot down in my diary* the things that have
happened. Put in bald words they scarcely seem credible.
* It will be borne in mind that I am writing these actual pages,
afterwards, at Verona, amplifying the rough notes in my diary.
Pages:
299
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