XXVI.


In the evening we came down slowly from the mountain with saddened
looks, as though we had been leaving our domains and happiness behind
us. She retired to her apartment, and I remained below to sup with our
host and his guests. After supper I knocked, as had been agreed upon,
at her door; she received me as she might a friend of childhood after a
long absence. Henceforward I spent all my days and all my evenings in
the same manner; I generally found her reclining on a sofa with a white
cover, which was placed in a corner between the fireplace and the
window; upon a small table on which stood a brass lamp there were some
books, the letters she had received or commenced during the day, a
little common tea-pot,--which she gave me when she went away, and which
has always stood upon my chimney since,--and two cups of blue and pink
china, in which we used to take tea at midnight. The old doctor would
sometimes go up with me, to chat with his fair patient; but after half
an hour's conversation, the good old man would find out that my
presence went further than his advice or his baths to re-establish the
health that was so precious to us all, and would leave us to our books
and conversation. At midnight, I kissed the hand she extended to me
across the table, and went to my own room; but I never retired to rest
until all was silent in hers.