Page:Later Life (1919).djvu/296

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288
THE LATER LIFE

She held him, clung to his strong shoulders; and he saw her very pale, anxious-eyed:

"Mamma . . ."

"No, leave me now, my boy . . . leave me alone . . . and go to Papa . . ."

He kissed her once more and went away.

She stayed behind, looked at herself in the glass. She saw herself, after all this emotion, saw her pale face, her grey hair:

"I don't know," she murmured. "Oh, to live really, I must not . . . I must not think of myself! . . . For me . . . it is all too late! If it has to be so, if we separate, it must be only . . . only for him, for Henri . . . and for . . . and for Marianne!"

She sank into her chair, covered her face, kept her eyes tightly closed; but their blindness no longer saw the rainbow-colours flashing before them . . .