A half-smile was fixed upon his
pale lips, and his eyes, half-opened, seemed to be turned on
mine. He was stouter than when I had seen him at Waterloo, and
there was a gentleness of expression which I had never seen in
life. On either side of him burned rows of candles, and this was
the beacon which had welcomed us at sea, which had guided me over
the water, and which I had hailed as my star of hope. Dimly I
became conscious that many people were kneeling in the room; the
little Court, men and women, who had shared his fortunes,
Bertrand, his wife, the priest, Montholon--all were there. I
would have prayed too, but my heart was too heavy and bitter for
prayer. And yet I must leave, and I could not leave him without
a sign. Regardless of whether I was seen or not, I drew myself
erect before my dead leader, brought my heels together, and
raised my hand in a last salute. Then I turned and hurried of
through the darkness, with the picture of the wan, smiling lips
and the steady grey eyes dancing always before me.
Pages:
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337