V
When Frank Shabata came in from work at five o'clock that evening,old Moses Marcel, Raoul's father, telephoned him that Amedee hadhad a seizure in the wheatfield, and that Doctor Paradis was goingto operate on him as soon as the Hanover doctor got there to help.Frank dropped a word of this at the table, bolted his supper, androde off to Sainte-Agnes, where there would be sympathetic discussionof Amedee's case at Marcel's saloon.
As soon as Frank was gone, Marie telephoned Alexandra. It was acomfort to hear her friend's voice. Yes, Alexandra knew what therewas to be known about Amedee. Emil had been there when they carriedhim out of the field, and had stayed with him until the doctorsoperated for appendicitis at five o'clock. They were afraid itwas too late to do much good; it should have been done three daysago. Amedee was in a very bad way. Emil had just come home, wornout and sick himself. She had given him some brandy and put himto bed.
Marie hung up the receiver. Poor Amedee's illness had taken on anew meaning to her, now that she knew Emil had been with him. Andit might so easily have been the other way--Emil who was ill andAmedee who was sad! Marie looked about the dusky sitting-room.She had seldom felt so utterly lonely. If Emil was asleep, therewas not even a chance of his coming; and she could not go toAlexandra for sympathy. She meant to tell Alexandra everything,as soon as Emil went away. Then whatever was left between themwould be honest.
But she could not stay in the house this evening. Where should shego? She walked slowly down through the orchard, where the eveningair was heavy with the smell of wild cotton. The fresh, salty scentof the wild roses had given way before this more powerful perfumeof midsummer. Wherever those ashes-of-rose balls hung on theirmilky stalks, the air about them was saturated with their breath.The sky was still red in the west and the evening star hungdirectly over the Bergsons' wind-mill. Marie crossed the fence atthe wheatfield corner, and walked slowly along the path that ledto Alexandra's. She could not help feeling hurt that Emil had notcome to tell her about Amedee. It seemed to her most unnaturalthat he should not have come. If she were in trouble, certainlyhe was the one person in the world she would want to see. Perhapshe wished her to understand that for her he was as good as gonealready.
Marie stole slowly, flutteringly, along the path, like a whitenight-moth out of the fields. The years seemed to stretch beforeher like the land; spring, summer, autumn, winter, spring; alwaysthe same patient fields, the patient little trees, the patient lives;always the same yearning, the same pulling at the chain--until theinstinct to live had torn itself and bled and weakened for the lasttime, until the chain secured a dead woman, who might cautiouslybe released. Marie walked on, her face lifted toward the remote,inaccessible evening star.
When she reached the stile she sat down and waited. How terribleit was to love people when you could not really share their lives!
Yes, in so far as she was concerned, Emil was already gone. Theycouldn't meet any more. There was nothing for them to say. Theyhad spent the last penny of their small change; there was nothingleft but gold. The day of love-tokens was past. They had nowonly their hearts to give each other. And Emil being gone, whatwas her life to be like? In some ways, it would be easier. Shewould not, at least, live in perpetual fear. If Emil were onceaway and settled at work, she would not have the feeling that shewas spoiling his life. With the memory he left her, she could beas rash as she chose. Nobody could be the worse for it but herself;and that, surely, did not matter. Her own case was clear. When agirl had loved one man, and then loved another while that man wasstill alive, everybody knew what to think of her. What happenedto her was of little consequence, so long as she did not drag otherpeople down with her. Emil once away, she could let everythingelse go and live a new life of perfect love.
Marie left the stile reluctantly. She had, after all, thought hemight come. And how glad she ought to be, she told herself, thathe was asleep. She left the path and went across the pasture. Themoon was almost full. An owl was hooting somewhere in the fields.She had scarcely thought about where she was going when the pondglittered before her, where Emil had shot the ducks. She stoppedand looked at it. Yes, there would be a dirty way out of life, ifone chose to take it. But she did not want to die. She wanted tolive and dream--a hundred years, forever! As long as this sweetnesswelled up in her heart, as long as her breast could hold thistreasure of pain! She felt as the pond must feel when it held themoon like that; when it encircled and swelled with that image ofgold.
In the morning, when Emil came down-stairs, Alexandra met himin the sitting-room and put her hands on his shoulders. "Emil, Iwent to your room as soon as it was light, but you were sleepingso sound I hated to wake you. There was nothing you could do, soI let you sleep. They telephoned from Sainte-Agnes that Amedeedied at three o'clock this morning."