would have taken her for a matron of grave experience. She talked of life as though she knew it inside and out, as if she had tried and tasted it all, and was already disappointed and tired. She assured me, with wondering baby-eyes, that she was seriously thinking of taking the veil. What could she hope from life? She knew that there was nothing for her but tranquil resignation for the rest of her days. 'For,' as she said convincingly, 'happiness can only be found in love, and I and love have done with each other. The student—to whom I was engaged—I have learned to despise. His caresses grew hateful to me, his love-sick words filled me with loathing. No, I am not mad for love.'
She said it with tired voice, she said it, too, with burning cheeks and shining eyes. A woman wedded to chastity, who was fit for but one thing—love.
It was then as she stood before me, a tall, slender girl confiding to me her baby-sorrows, that I fell in love with her. How charming she was with her simple-hearted sadness. How sweet she looked in her pretty frock!
VMarie's pretty frock! The frock she wore that first day of our acquaintance. Never shall I forget it.
