Arthur Sherburne Hardy

“ The monosyllable was so charged with interest and encouragement that Diane settled herself in her chair. "It happened in this way," she began. "Before I went to my father in Africa I read books under compulsion, at appointed times, as one eats." Looking up over her knitting, the countess smiled. "They did not interest me, those books of counsel and meditation, those lives of saints like wooden dolls. I used to say to myself: 'Of what use is a saint in a cell?'"
"It is easier to be a saint in a cell than in life, my dear. Did you not learn that with the army in Africa?" ”

“ There is a portrait of the countess at eighteen, the year of her marriage, in a room which is not used, as if one wished to put the self of that day out of mind. I see no great resemblance between the two women. The one on the wall would make every woman envy her; the one sitting near me makes every one love her. But why should the one wish to forget the other? ”

“ To stand beside some poor fellow over whom the surgeon is bending, to see the surgeon rise—oh, how well I know the gesture!—and hear him say, 'Nothing to be done,'—and pass on,—pass on to one for whom there was hope and forget the one for whom there was none—that broke my heart. ”

“ The abbé told me an amusing story about him; that a traveler, taken suddenly ill here, telegraphed to Paris for some celebrity, and received the reply: 'What do you want of me, since you have Leroux!' Yet he is content to remain here—one, at least, whom that monster, Paris, cannot devour! Little Diane plays all day in the garden and adores the gardener, who is a murderer. It seems the countess rescued him in some manner from the police. Every one adores him, he is so good. You remember what my father used to say: to be good one must have a chance. ”

“ We were always short of nurses, and our surgeon preferred me to all the others."
The countess's knitting fell into her lap. "I should not have the courage," she murmured, leaning back hi the deep chair and looking into Diane's face, "no—never."
"You would have the courage whenever you could be of assistance," said Diane quietly. "It becomes a passion to save life. Courage fails when one can do nothing. ”

“ I said to myself: 'Diane, you, too, will some day die. It may be you will never marry. You will have no children, and there will be absolutely nothing left unless you also have literary remains.' So I began my journal, and I assure you," observing the amusement on the countess's face, "there are some interesting things in it. Do not imagine it is like Raoul's. I reserve it for great events only."
"Such as?"
"Well, for example, once I fought a duel with M. de Sade. ”

“ And you still write in your journal?"
"Certainly. Why not?"
"Sometimes it happens, after marriage, when children come, that one thinks less of literary remains."
"Oh," cried Diane, "I do not permit that to make any difference. Raoul has added to my life, but he has taken nothing away." She stopped abruptly, conscious that she had said something she would recall. She was glad when the silence was broken.
"You are fond of your husband, I perceive. You must bring him to me when he returns. He, too, was in Africa?" ”

“ One wishes to ask, to know more, but does not dare to. Who was this man whose very name is forbidden? Ask M. de Sade. He knows everything. No, on second thought, do not ask him. I look up from this page into the face of the woman beside me, and I wish to know nothing.
"How industrious you are!"
Seated in the big chintz chair beside the desk where Diane was writing, the countess had taken out the knitting which lay in her pocket, always ready for an idle moment like that of any bourgeoise of Freyr. ”

“ But tell me about this book, this journal—it must be interesting. Not every woman makes a campaign in Africa."
"At all events, it is not like Raoul's," said Diane, with her flashing smile. "Imagine, the day we were married he wrote: 'Left Bordeaux at 3 p.m. Arrived Biarritz 7.'"
The countess looked up again. "The important thing is that he loved you at seven as he did at five."
"That is true," replied Diane, in quick assent, "and now, as then."
The countess's eyes turned back from the fresh young face to her knitting. The audacious confidence and happiness of youth! ”

“ I asked who lives in the château."
"The Countess Anne, madame."
"Yes, I know. But afterward? Not Anne Boleyn, for example, nor Anne of Austria."
M. Achille was visibly perplexed. Every one in Freyr had always said "the Countess Anne."
"Madame is quite right," he stammered, rubbing his hands together, "only—I had not thought of it. You see, being always accustomed—"
"She has lived here long?" interrupted Diane. ”

“ Have I told you it is atrociously hot here? In spite of all I could do I fell asleep in my chair on the terrace after dinner. De Sade wished to drag me to the opera. As you well know, there is but one person who can do that. When I woke he was at my elbow again. He proposed a ride in the Bois. We returned at two in the morning. By the way, I forgot to say I received your first letter. It is extraordinary, that habit of yours of finding friends everywhere—or shall I say making them? And in Freyr! De Sade asked what the devil you were doing in that hole. ”

“ At this reiterated denunciation her companion, who, having finished the feuilleton of the "Écho de Paris," was endeavoring to extract a last crumb of interest from the advertisements, laid down his paper.
"Be a little reasonable, Diane. How can you say a thing is unjust of which you know nothing? " The blue eyes, following the retreating minnows, smiled. Raoul was so logical! ”

“ De Sade says as a child he remembers her well—that when he wore curls he was in love with her. He had an idea she was dead. Paris forgets quickly. I expect to finish to-morrow. If possible I shall take the noon train. This place is given over to Americans, whom I am learning to distinguish after your method. Every one has left town except, as De Sade says, a few old bachelors who cannot live beyond the odor of the asphalt. Kiss little Diane.
"Raoul." ”

“ Most men certainly, especially a man who prides himself on being one of the first swords in France, would sulk after being disarmed by a woman. On the contrary, he boasts of it. He says illusions are dangerous, and that you destroyed the last one he cherished. ”