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And it is the great dramatic momentof your life that passes! He brought the
child endless giftstill Angela put a stop to it. They blame the bad harvests in
Spain on Godoy. She came forward and clutched at his breasta moment.
It was for
him more than for her that Anthony had beenpleading, Angela thought. I sang in
the streets for them and held out the hat.
Debrülles only refuge is achemical
reaction. No, no, do not touch me, do not touch me again.
>From the gravel path
below came the rapidly diminishing tread ofboots.
But she had a prodigious
memory and a calm, clearmind. He had suddenly seen Angela in a new light.
They
cared for eachother more than for anybody else.
Hovering over them, he was
overpowered by pride, a happy andsentimental old German.
She sang to it
everywhere and it laughedand wept.
What is the differencewhat either of us has
done?
Neither Angela nor Debrülle had ever asked for anything.
She came forward
and clutched at his breasta moment. Oh, theres never a dove in last years nest,
Or a swan to come back to me.
I needed your comfort just once in a time like
this, she said. Good night, little papa, said the boy, coming over to Debrülle.
He stopped, fumbling musically for a better harmony for the nextline.
Oh,
theres never a dove in last years nest, Or a swan to come back to me. But best
ofall Josephine had that very morning unwittingly suggested it to himherself.
At best only a fewmoments of life at the full could be tasted in these days.
But he had never seen her somagnificent before. Naturallyhe saw that they were
comfortable.
All the time hekept filling his eyes and heart with the surprise
and wonder of hisliving son. Poor Angela, poor helpless me, she thought. But
the child, who had runto the far end of the walk, was returning now faster than
ever.
Anthony had not changed so much to Angela.
In the weeks that he came and
went at Saint-Germain she filled his heart with gracious music. I shall take
occasion towhip you in public soon. He brought the child endless giftstill
Angela put a stop to it.
The boy caught her mood and stamped his foot.
Then she
burst into tears and fledinto the house leaving them alone together.
Out of his
own life and his own generation he had made asong about them.
The perfume of
the flower came reminding him of thebowl on the table in Vincents room.
He
thought so as he strode into the little music-room and found Mlle. How romantic
it all is, my dear Debrülle!
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