ME NOW

I fought my way to Brussels against the elements, and reached there at
sunset of the last day of the year. I had not slept for thirty-six
hours, and then it was in the rude cart of a peasant, jolting over the
rough highroad. But sleep had departed from me. Up to that time I had
managed to get a few hours of rest out of every twenty-four, for I was
a soldier and knew how to take hard travel. But if I had been offered
the great down bed of Louis le Grand, I could not have slept on that
December night, thank God! Had I remained the night in Brussels--had I
preferred soft slumber to the dumb cry of Francezka's soul to
mine--what grief! What remorse! Therefore, I took horse again at
sun-setting, and did not draw rein until I reached Capello, at nine of
the clock.

It was the first time I had seen the place in the icy clutch of
winter. I had ever thought it the cheerfullest spot on earth. Nature
was all gaiety at Capello. Now she was in a tragic mood, but not the
less beautiful. The sky was of a deep, dark blue, jeweled with stars
in every part. A radiant, majestic moon rode high, flooding the snowy
earth with a pale, unearthly splendor. The chateau, white and stately,
shone dazzling in this moonlit glow. The bare branches of the forest
covered with frost, were like silver lace. All was cold, still, lonely
and sad.

I noticed as I approached the chateau through the great bare avenue of
frosted lindens, that the windows were not, as usual, lighted up. Two
only were illuminated--the windows of the little yellow saloon, where
Francezka spent her evenings when without company.

As ever I drew nearer to Francezka, that need for haste seemed to be
more urgent. I dismounted in the courtyard, and ran, rather than
walked up the terrace. Through the window, with its undrawn curtains,
I saw Francezka and Gaston seated together in the yellow saloon.

I had not meant to watch them. I meant to stop and recover myself a
little before presenting myself before them, but I could not keep my
eyes away from the scene in the yellow saloon. I believe most persons
have felt the fascination of looking at an interior illuminated with
fire and candle, as one stands without, and so, unconsciously, I stood
and watched Francezka and Gaston Cheverny.

The room presented that charming, luxurious and comfortable air which
always distinguished it. A fire was burning on the hearth, and a table
with candles and books on it, was drawn up. Gasto