Above them was a hill which was almost split in twain by a gorge or
gully, down through which a brook leaped and hounded and tumbled,
rolling its musical "r's." The four started up the long incline, the
women gathering the belated flowers and the men picking up curious
sticks or sending boulders hurtling down the hillside. Higher and
higher they mounted till the summit was reached. Hill after hill
rolled away to the east, to the south, to the west, while toward the
north the lake glittered with all the brilliancy of a cardinal's plate.
"Can it be," said Victor, breaking the spell, "can it be that we once
knew Paris?"
"Paris!" repeated madame. Her eyes took in her beaded skirt and
moccasins and replaced them with glowing silks and shimmering laces.
Paris! Many a phantom was stirred from its tomb at the sound of this
magic name.
Anne perched herself upon a boulder and the Chevalier rested beside
her, while madame and the poet strolled a short distance away.
"Shall we ever see our dear Paris again, Gabrielle?" asked the poet.
"I hope so; and soon, soon!"
"How came you to sign that paper?"
"He would have broken my arm, else. How I hated him! Tricks,
subterfuges, lies, menaces; I was surrounded by them. And I believed
in so many things those early days!"
"How softly breathes this last, lingering ghost of summer," he said.
"How lovingly the pearls and opals and amethysts of heaven linger on
the crimsoning hills! See how the stream runs like a silver thread,
laughing and singing, to join the grave river. We can not see the
river from here, but we know how gravely it journeys to the sea. Can
you not smell the odor of mint, of earth, of the forest, and the water?
Hark! I hear a bird singing. There he goes, a yellow bird, a golden
rouleau of song. How the yellow flower stands out against the dark of
the grasses! It is all beautiful. It is the immortality in us which
nature enchants. See how the wooded lands fade and fade till they and
the heavens meet and dissolve! And all this is yours, Gabrielle, for
the seeing and the hearing. Some day I shall know all things, but
never again shall I know the perfect beauty of this day. Some day I
shall know the reason for this and for that, why I made a bad step here
and a short one there; but never again, this hour." He picked up a
chestnut-bur and opened it, extending the plump chestnuts to her.
How delicately this man was telling her that he still loved her!
Absently her hand closed over the chestnuts, and the thought in her
eyes was far away. If only it had been written that she might love him!