Fires of St. John - LightNovelsOnl.com
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George.
_Marie!!_
Marie.
[_Rising_.] You are right. It was low in me. But he who originates where I do, is low--so low----
George.
Don't think of it, Marie! Think of this house and all the love it has given you!
Marie.
How quiet everything is--not a sound to be heard--as silent as the grave----
George.
Then be content, for they have buried us together!
Marie.
If they only had----!
George.
And see the pale moon--how it throws its silvery rays over the garden--and yonder is your manzanillo-tree.
Marie.
Yes, yes, do you see it?
George.
And its white, trembling leaves; see, see, each one seems alive--though not a breath of air is stirring. Come, let us go to it.
Marie.
[_Cowering_.] No, no, I think it is time--we must----
George.
s.h.!.+--s.h.!.+----
Marie.
What is it?
George.
There--something moved. It must be Gertrude. [_Goes to door C. and calls_.] "Gertrude!!!"
[_Short pause_.]
Marie.
You must have been mistaken!
George.
No, no; I saw a shadow. "Gertrude!" Remain here, I'll go see! [_Exit into garden_.]
Marie.
Oh, I'm so afraid, George--so afraid----!
[_Pause_.]
[George _returns, pale and agitated, trying to control himself_.]
Marie.
Who was it? Who was it?
George.
Oh, no one--no one----
Marie.
Yes, there was--I can see it in your face!! Was it Gertrude?
George.
No.
Marie.
Then it was papa?
George.
No, no.
Marie.
George, you are as pale as death; What has happened? Tell me!
George.
