it best not to tell her of my
departure till the morrow. And this was perhaps the bitterest drop I had
to drink, my dear, to leave the house like a thief, and no word to her
who had made it a palace of light to me. Indeed, when Yvon left me, to
order the horses, a thought came into my mind which I found it hard to
resist. There was a little balcony outside my window, and I knew that my
dear love's window (I call her so this once, the pain coming back sharp
upon me of that parting hour) opened near it. If I took my violin and
stepped outside, and if I played one air that she knew, then, I thought,
she would understand, at least in part. She would not think that I had
gone willingly without kissing her sweet hand, which I had counted on
doing, the custom of the country permitting it. I took the violin, and
went out into the cool night air; and I laid my bow across the strings,
yet no sound came. For honour, my dear, honour, which we bring into this
world with us, and which is the only thing, save those heavenly ones,
that we can take from this world with us, laid, as it were, her hand on
the strings, and kept them silent. A thing for which I have ever since
been humbly thankful, that I never willingly or knowingly gave any touch
of pain to that sweet lady's life. But if I had played, Melody; if it
had been permitted to me as a man of honour as well as a true lover, it
was my mother's little song that I should have played; and that, my
child, is why you have always said that you hear my heart beat in that
song.

"Il y a longtemps que je t'aime;
Jamais je ne t'oublierai!"

Before we rode away, Mme. de Lalange came out to the door, leaning on
her crutched stick; the horses being already there, and I about to
mount. She swept me a curtsey of surprising depth, considering her
infirmity.

"M. D'Arthenay," she said, "I think I have done you an injustice. I
cannot regret your departure, but I desire to say that your conduct has
been that of a gentleman, and that I shall always think of you as noble,
and the worthy descendant of a great race." With that she held out her
hand, which I took and kissed, conceiving this to be her intention; that
I did it with something the proper air her eyes assured me. It is a
graceful custom, but unsuited to our own country and race.

I could only reply that I thanked her for her present graciousness, and
that it was upon that my thought should dwell in recalling my stay he