Edmee had given
orders that she was not to be disturbed; but I did not consider that
this applied to myself; the servants thought it quite natural that
I should behave as the son of the house. I entered the drawing-room,
fearful lest Edmee should have retired to her bed-room; for there I
could not have followed her. She was sitting near the fire and amusing
herself by pulling out the petals of the blue and white asters which I
had gathered during a walk to the tomb of Jean Jacques Rousseau.
These flowers brought back to me a night of ecstasy, under the clear
moonlight, the only hours of happiness, perhaps, that I could mention in
all my life.
"Back already?" she said, without any change of attitude.
"Already is an unkind word," I replied. "Would you like me to retire to
my room, Edmee?"
"By no means; you are not disturbing me at all; but you would have
derived more profit from seeing _Merope_ than from listening to my
conversation this evening; for I warn you that I feel a complete idiot."
"So much the better, cousin; I shall not feel humiliated this evening,
since for the first time we shall be upon a footing of equality. But,
might I ask you why you so despise my asters? I thought that you would
probably keep them as a souvenir."
"Of Rousseau?" she asked with a malicious little smile, and without
raising her eyes to mine.
"Naturally that was my meaning," I answered.
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