And now that this weary time is over I
can look back upon it with some pride, if with little pleasure--save for
the part you have played in my life, and--may I say it?--saving the part I
have played in yours."
He put out his hand gently and tenderly touched hers, and there was
something in the meeting of those two thin, yellow hands, stained with the
same daily labour and not meeting for the first time thus, that sent a
thrill to the two hearts and that might have brought a look of thoughtful
interest into eyes dulled and wearied by the ordinary sights of this
world. Vjera did not resent the innocent caress, but the colour that came
into her face was not of the same hue as that which had burned there when
he had insisted upon carrying her basket. This time the blush was not
painful to see, but rather shed a faint light of beauty over the plain,
pale features. Poor Vjera was happy for a moment.
"I am very glad if I have been anything to you," she said. "I would I
might have been more."
"More? I do not see--you have been gentle, forbearing, respecting my
misfortunes and trying to make others respect them. What more could you
have done, or what more could you have been?"
Vjera was silent, but she softly withdrew her hand from his and gazed at
the people in the distance. The Count smoked without speaking, for several
minutes, closing his eyes as though revolving a great problem in his mind,
then glancing sidelong at his companion's face, hesitating as though about
to speak, checking himself and shutting his eyes again in meditation.
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