“You called me, and I came; do not make me regret it.”

“I am sorry to have disturbed you.  You could doubtless find a better employment for your time.  I will not detain you.  Rejoin him, since you are longing to do so.”

At the thought that his unhappy words expressed a moment of eternal human pain, and that tragedy had illustrated many similar griefs, she felt all the sadness and irony of the situation, which a curl of her lips betrayed.  He thought she was laughing.

“Do not laugh; listen to me.  The other day, at the hotel, I wanted to kill you.  I came so near doing it that now I know what I escaped.  I will not do it.  You may rest secure.  What would be the use?  As I wish to keep up appearances, I shall call on you in Paris.  It will grieve me to learn that you can not receive me.  I shall see your husband, I shall see your father also.  It will be to say good-by to them, as I intend to go on a long voyage.  Farewell, Madame!”

At the moment when he turned his back to her, Therese saw Miss Bell and Prince Albertinelli coming out of the freight-station toward her.  The Prince was very handsome.  Vivian was walking by his side with the lightness of chaste joy.

“Oh, darling, what a pleasant surprise to find you here!  The Prince, and I have seen, at the customhouse, the new bell, which has just come.”

“Ah, the bell has come?”

“It is here, darling, the Ghiberti bell.  I saw it in its wooden cage.  It did not ring, because it was a prisoner.  But it will have a campanile in my Fiesole house.

“When it feels the air of Florence, it will be happy to let its silvery voice be heard.  Visited by the doves, it will ring for all our joys and all our sufferings.  It will ring for you, for me, for the Prince, for good Madame Marmet, for Monsieur Choulette, for all our friends.”

“Dear, bells never ring for real joys and for real sufferings.  Bells are honest functionaries, who know only official sentiments.”

“Oh, darling, you are much mistaken.  Bells know the secrets of souls; they know everything.  But I am very glad to find you here.  I know, my love, why you came to the station.  Your maid betrayed you.  She told me you were waiting for a pink gown which was delayed in coming and that you were very impatient.  But do not let that trouble you.  You are always beautiful, my love.”

She made Madame Martin enter her wagon.

“Come, quick, darling; Monsieur Jacques Dechartre dines at the house to-night, and I should not like to make him wait.”

And while they were driving through the silence of the night, through the pathways full of the fresh perfume of wildflowers, she said: 

“Do you see over there, darling, the black distaffs of the Fates, the cypresses of the cemetery?  It is there I wish to sleep.”

But Therese thought anxiously:  “They saw him.  Did they recognize him?  I think not.  The place was dark, and had only little blinding lights.  Did she know him?  I do not recall whether she saw him at my house last year.”