O marjolaines de mon frère, ô marjolaines, Quand ta main comme un oiseau sacre se promène, En mon jardin paré de lys et de sesnis, Quand tu manges le miel doré de mes mamelles, Quand ta bouche bourdonne ainsi qu'un vol d'abeilles Et se pose et se tait sur mon ventre fleuri, Ah! je meurs, je m'en vais, je m'effuse en tes bras Comme une source vive pleine de nymphéas, Armoises, marjolaines, pourpiers, fleurs de ma vie!
Following this, Hubert returned to his room, verified some terminologies, and retired.
Tranquilly, by the light of a little lamp, he read Sixtine's letter.
Nice, Friday. ADIEU. This will be a novel without an end, after the modern fashion, for you surely will write it? If not, what is the use? And thus the fugitive shadow will pause an instant and our vain intercourse will have a realization--oh! very relatively--through the creative breath of Art.
Without an end--unless Logic imposes a higher duty upon you.
Without an end,--but I have not the cruelty, knowing you to be devoid of imagination, to let you torture yourself in the vain pursuit of the resolution of the two or three perturbations which my thoughtless words forced on your mind. So I mean to explain the few mysteries--psychological and otherwise--which might trouble the serenity of your mornings.
First, why did I leave? Ah! do not ask it of me, I no longer know why,--but it is irrevocable.
What would you? He captured me. I had to be taken. How often have I not told you that it was necessary to take me and by force and ruse to capture my wavering will? There are such fine strategies that one surrenders, not because of being at the end of resistance, but because the stroke is so well played that it gives pleasure. Ah! you believe women are insensible to Art? At least, this is clear: he captured me.
We were waltzing. He carried me away. "Carry me where you will!"--That was the first submission which--mentally--I made him.
It was toward the hour when the ball's intoxication commenced to evaporate and left me anticipating of the pleasures of sleep. He asked me for the honor (see, nothing premeditated, the honor!) of escorting me home, at the very moment when, wishing to leave, I feared to leave entranced, and find myself alone in the night. I accepted and sent him to call a carriage and await me there. But he discovered that I was still enjoying myself: he had to wait several hours. Finally, I fled like Cinderella.