The Magic Skin Part 23

"Come, then!" cried Valentin, holding out his arms.

She sprang upon his knees and clasped her arms about his neck.

"Kiss me!" she cried, "after all the pain you have given me; to blot out the memory of the grief that your joys have caused me; and for the sake of the nights that I spent in painting hand-screens----"

"Those hand-screens of yours?"

"Now that we are rich, my darling, I can tell you all about it. Poor boy! how easy it is to delude a clever man! Could you have had white waistcoats and clean s.h.i.+rts twice a week for three francs every month to the laundress? Why, you used to drink twice as much milk as your money would have paid for. I deceived you all round--over firing, oil, and even money. O Raphael mine, don't have me for your wife, I am far too cunning!" she said laughing.

"But how did you manage?"

"I used to work till two o'clock in the morning; I gave my mother half the money made by my screens, and the other half went to you."

They looked at one another for a moment, both bewildered by love and gladness.

"Some day we shall have to pay for this happiness by some terrible sorrow," cried Raphael.

"Perhaps you are married?" said Pauline. "Oh, I will not give you up to any other woman."

"I am free, my beloved."

"Free!" she repeated. "Free, and mine!"

She slipped down upon her knees, clasped her hands, and looked at Raphael in an enthusiasm of devotion.

"I am afraid I shall go mad. How handsome you are!" she went on, pa.s.sing her fingers through her lover's fair hair. "How stupid your Countess Foedora is! How pleased I was yesterday with the homage they all paid to me! SHE has never been applauded. Dear, when I felt your arm against my back, I heard a vague voice within me that cried, 'He is there!' and I turned round and saw you. I fled, for I longed so to throw my arms about you before them all."

"How happy you are--you can speak!" Raphael exclaimed. "My heart is overwhelmed; I would weep, but I cannot. Do not draw your hand away.

I could stay here looking at you like this for the rest of my life, I think; happy and content."

"O my love, say that once more!"

"Ah, what are words?" answered Valentin, letting a hot tear fall on Pauline's hands. "Some time I will try to tell you of my love; just now I can only feel it."

"You," she said, "with your lofty soul and your great genius, with that heart of yours that I know so well; are you really mine, as I am yours?"

"For ever and ever, my sweet creature," said Raphael in an uncertain voice. "You shall be my wife, my protecting angel. My griefs have always been dispelled by your presence, and my courage revived; that angelic smile now on your lips has purified me, so to speak. A new life seems about to begin for me. The cruel past and my wretched follies are hardly more to me than evil dreams. At your side I breathe an atmosphere of happiness, and I am pure. Be with me always," he added, pressing her solemnly to his beating heart.

"Death may come when it will," said Pauline in ecstasy; "I have lived!"

Happy he who shall divine their joy, for he must have experienced it.

"I wish that no one might enter this dear garret again, my Raphael,"

said Pauline, after two hours of silence.

"We must have the door walled up, put bars across the window, and buy the house," the Marquis answered.

"Yes, we will," she said. Then a moment later she added: "Our search for your ma.n.u.scripts has been a little lost sight of," and they both laughed like children.

"Pshaw! I don't care a jot for the whole circle of the sciences,"

Raphael answered.

"Ah, sir, and how about glory?"

"I glory in you alone."

"You used to be very miserable as you made these little scratches and scrawls," she said, turning the papers over.

"My Pauline----"

"Oh yes, I am your Pauline--and what then?"

"Where are you living now?"

"In the Rue Saint Lazare. And you?"

"In the Rue de Varenne."

"What a long way apart we shall be until----" She stopped, and looked at her lover with a mischievous and coquettish expression.

"But at the most we need only be separated for a fortnight," Raphael answered.

"Really! we are to be married in a fortnight?" and she jumped for joy like a child.

"I am an unnatural daughter!" she went on. "I give no more thought to my father or my mother, or to anything in the world. Poor love, you don't know that my father is very ill? He returned from the Indies in very bad health. He nearly died at Havre, where we went to find him. Good heavens!" she cried, looking at her watch; "it is three o'clock already!

I ought to be back again when he wakes at four. I am mistress of the house at home; my mother does everything that I wish, and my father wors.h.i.+ps me; but I will not abuse their kindness, that would be wrong.

My poor father! He would have me go to the Italiens yesterday. You will come to see him to-morrow, will you not?"

"Will Madame la Marquise de Valentin honor me by taking my arm?"

"I am going to take the key of this room away with me," she said. "Isn't our treasure-house a palace?"

"One more kiss, Pauline."

"A thousand, _mon Dieu_!" she said, looking at Raphael. "Will it always be like this? I feel as if I were dreaming."

They went slowly down the stairs together, step for step, with arms closely linked, trembling both of them beneath their load of joy. Each pressing close to the other's side, like a pair of doves, they reached the Place de la Sorbonne, where Pauline's carriage was waiting.

"I want to go home with you," she said. "I want to see your own room and your study, and to sit at the table where you work. It will be like old times," she said, blus.h.i.+ng.

She spoke to the servant. "Joseph, before returning home I am going to the Rue de Varenne. It is a quarter-past three now, and I must be back by four o'clock. George must hurry the horses." And so in a few moments the lovers came to Valentin's abode.

"How glad I am to have seen all this for myself!" Pauline cried, creasing the silken bed-curtains in Raphael's room between her fingers.

"As I go to sleep, I shall be here in thought. I shall imagine your dear head on the pillow there. Raphael, tell me, did no one advise you about the furniture of your hotel?"

"No one whatever."

"Really? It was not a woman who----"