"Ah, Jack!" She laughed, and the lurking echoes clasped the music of
that laughter in their wanton arms and hurried it across the river.
"Sing to me," said I.
Then imagine my surprise--I, who had heard nothing but German fall from
her lips?--when in a heavenly contralto she sang a chanson from "La
Fille de Madame Angot," an opera forgotten these ten years!
"_Elle est tellement innocente!_"
She had risen, and she stood there before me with a halo of moonshine
above her head. The hot blood rushed to my ears. Barmaid, Socialist,
or whatever she might be, she was lovable. In a moment I was kissing
her hand, the hand so small, so white, and yet so firm. A thousand
inarticulate words came to my lips--from my heart! Did the hand
tremble? I thought so. But swiftly she drew it from my clasp, all the
joy and gladness gone from her face and eyes.
"No, no!" she cried; "this must not be; it must not be!"
"But I----" I began eagerly.
"You must not say it; I command you. If you speak, Gretchen will be
Gretchen no more. Yes, the King seeks Gretchen; but will you drive her
away from her only haven?" with a choking sound.
"Gretchen, trust me. Shall I go to-morrow? Shall I leave you in
peace?" Somehow I believed myself to be in danger. "Speak!"
There was an interval of stillness, broken only by the beating of
hearts. Then: "Stay. But speak no word of love; it is not for such as I. Stay and
be my friend, for I need one. Cannot a woman look with favor upon a
man but he must needs become her lover? I shall trust you as I have
trusted other men. And though you fail me in the end, as others have
done, still I shall trust you. Herr, I conspire against the King. For
what? The possession of my heart. All my life I have stood alone, so
alone."
"I will be your friend, Gretchen; I will speak no word of love. Will
that suffice?"
"It is all I ask, dear friend. And now will you leave me?"
"Leave you?" I cried. "I thought you bade me stay?"
"Ah," putting out her hand; "you men do not understand. Sometimes a
woman wishes to be alone when--when she feels that she--she cannot hold
back her tears!"
Gravely I bent over her hand and kissed it. It seemed to me as I let
the hand fall that I had never kissed a woman on the lips. I turned
and went slowly down the path. Once I looked back. I saw something
white lying at the foot of the tree. Heaven knows what a struggle it
was, but I went on. I wanted to take her in my arms and tell her that
I loved her. When I reached the inn I turned again, but I saw nothing.
I sat in my room a long time that night, smoking my pipe till the
candle gasped feebly and died in the stick, and the room was swallowed
in darkness.