He studied in the same way the turnings
which his bearers took within the house, and believed himself able to
recall them.
As on the previous night, he found himself on the ottoman before
Paquita, who was undoing his bandage; but he saw her pale and altered.
She had wept. On her knees like an angel in prayer, but like an angel
profoundly sad and melancholy, the poor girl no longer resembled the
curious, impatient, and impetuous creature who had carried De Marsay
on her wings to transport him to the seventh heaven of love. There was
something so true in this despair veiled by pleasure, that the
terrible De Marsay felt within him an admiration for this new
masterpiece of nature, and forgot, for the moment, the chief interest
of his assignation.
"What is the matter with thee, my Paquita?"
"My friend," she said, "carry me away this very night. Bear me to some
place where no one can answer: 'There is a girl with a golden gaze
here, who has long hair.' Yonder I will give thee as many pleasures as
thou wouldst have of me. Then when you love me no longer, you shall
leave me, I shall not complain, I shall say nothing; and your
desertion need cause you no remorse, for one day passed with you, only
one day, in which I have had you before my eyes, will be worth all my
life to me. But if I stay here, I am lost."
"I cannot leave Paris, little one!" replied Henri. "I do not belong to
myself, I am bound by a vow to the fortune of several persons who
stand to me, as I do to them.
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