Then I felt the tears coming soft from her eyes: and the memory of a scene rose before me, when I said:
'Why, little Rosebud, you mustn't mind like that! I'll come back again some day!'
Ah, I had come back again, and had brought her, not a bonnet with blue ribbons and a flower that should look so real that the butterflies should settle on it, but what she wanted—myself; and also what I had promised with myself, some grapes and bon-bons; and also what I had not promised with myself, some thorns and nettles. Alas, alas, was she not indeed 'alone in the world, quite alone, as if nobody else belonged to her.…' 'Good-night Rosebud. Good-night!'
Well, I said to myself, there is no good in this.
"The cocks they crew, and the horns blew.
And the lions took the hill;
And Willie he gaed hame again.
To his hard task and till.
—I must be off, pippin,' I said aloud, 'or I shall miss the train.' And got up and went across the room and turned, looking at her.
She rose and, saying 'I will fetch your coat,' went out through the doorway, leaving me with my mental stretching and rubbing of limbs that had been asleep and wakened up to the feeling that their blood was sluggish.
Presently she returned with my greatcoat, which I took with thanks from her, and then I felt that she felt that the final embrace was coming. In a moment it was come. She was in my arms, pressing up with a poor little tearful face for the soft lips' kiss. None other kiss than that now, none other kiss than that! Oh Rosebud, Rosebud! Then our beings, scarce met, parted again; and I had left her.
I went down.
As I got into the cab opposite the door, I looked up at our balcony half hoping to see her there. No. Nor at the window.
Once more, as we drove away, I looked up at balcony and window. No. I was a fool.
I thought much on my way to the Gare du Nord.
