I reasoned that soon or late—being of fair fortune and of lofty rank—he would of a surety come thither. So I waited.
I waited all through the winter, but he did not come. I worked my way into his own south-country, and tried to find traces of him. I saw his great palace amongst pine forests, the palace as of a prince, but I learned that he had not been there for several seasons. He had deserted it almost utterly for the world of cities.
They said that he was in Italy.
I travelled thither, but there I was always too late: he had left each city before I entered it. It is no use to tell of all these wanderings, none of which bore any fruit.
Once, in Venice, I only missed him by a day: a gondolier told me that he had a woman with him fair as a rose.
Ah, God! that was in the sweet time of spring. Everywhere the lilacs were in flower.
I lived to hear that and to see the trees blossom. How can the bullets hurt me to-morrow?
Let me make an end quickly. I lived, wretchedly, indeed, but still I lived on: I would not lie down and die without my vengeance.
The summer came, and with summer, war. When it was declared I was on the frontier. I hastened
