The Poor Gentleman | Page 8

little violets, and, probably, the whole world.
"His image ever, ever before me! his voice ever ringing in my ears!
Why try to escape their fascination? Oh, God! what is this that is
passing within me? My heart trembles; sometimes my blood bounds
wildly through my veins, and then again it creeps and freezes; and yet
how happy I am! what inexpressible joy fills my very soul!"
She was silent; then, seeming suddenly to rouse herself, she raised her
head and threw back the thick curls, as if anxious to disembarrass her
mind of a haunting thought.
"Wait, my dear flowers," said she, smiling, to the violets; "wait a
moment: I will comfort and refresh you."
With this she disappeared in the grove, and, in a short time, brought
from it a few twigs and leaves, which she arranged in a little trellis over
the flower-beds, so as to shadow the violets completely from the sun.
After this she took a small watering-pot and ran across the grass to a
basin or tank in the middle of the garden, around which a number of
weeping-willows drooped their branches into the water. On her arrival
its surface was perfectly smooth; but hardly had her image been
reflected in the tank when it appeared to swarm with living creatures.
Hundreds of gold-fishes, of all colors, swam toward her with their
mouths gaping from the water, as if the poor little animals were trying
to speak to her. Holding on by the trunk of the nearest willow, she bent
gracefully over the pond and tried to fill her watering-pot without
touching the gold-fish.
"Come, come; let me alone just now," said she, as she carefully avoided
them; "I haven't time to play with you; I will bring you your dinner
after a while."

But the fish fluttered around the watering-pot until she withdrew it
from the tank; and, even after her departure, continued to crowd toward
the bank she had touched with her foot.
The young lady watered her flowers and replaced the pot gently on the
ground; then, retiring slowly to the solitary house, she returned after a
while at the same slow pace, and, throwing some crumbs to the fish,
began to saunter slowly about the garden-paths, inattentive to every
thing but her own absorbing thoughts. At length she reached a spot
where a gigantic catalpa-tree overarched the garden and bent its
branches almost to the earth. A table and a couple of chairs stood
beneath the fresh and fragrant shade, and a book, inkstand, and
embroidery-frame, gave token that the retreat had not long been
abandoned by the lady herself. She seated herself in one of the chairs,
took up the book, then the embroidery, let them fall one after another,
and finally leaned her beautiful head on her hand, like one who is
weary in spirit and anxious for rest.
For a while her large dreamy eyes were vaguely fixed, as if gazing into
space; at intervals a smile played around her mouth, and her lips moved
as if talking with a friend. Occasionally her drooping eyelids closed
entirely; but the lashes quickly reopened, only to fall more heavily than
before, till at last a profound sleep or intense reverie seemed to get
possession of her mind and body.
But did she sleep? There is no doubt that her spirit watched and was
happy; for a pleasant expression constantly played over her features,
and, if sometimes it became serious, the joyous look quickly returned
with all its radiance. She had long been plunged by this happy dream
into complete forgetfulness of real life, when a noise of wheels and the
neigh of a horse was heard at the gateway, disturbing the silence of
Grinselhof. Still the maiden was not aroused.
The old _calèche_ returned from the city, drew up near the stable, and
the farmer and his wife ran out to salute their master and put up the
horse. While they were thus engaged, Monsieur De Vlierbeck got out
of the vehicle and spoke to them kindly, but in a voice so full of
sadness that both looked at him with astonishment. In fact, the gravity

of this singular person never abandoned him even in his most affable
moods; but at that moment his physiognomy indicated a degree of
intense depression which was by no means habitual. He seemed
altogether worn out with fatigue, and his eyes, which were commonly
so vivacious, drooped, dull and languishing, beneath their heavy lids.
The horse was quickly put in the stable, and the young lackey, who had
already divested himself of his livery, took several baskets and packets
from the vehicle, carried them into the farm-house, and placed them on
the table of the antechamber.
"And now, Master John," said De Vlierbeck, approaching the