MEMORIES.
The person before whom Ninny Moulin stopped in such extreme astonishment was the Bacchanal Queen.
Pale and wan, with, hair in disorder, hollow cheeks, sunken eyes, and clothed almost in rags, this brilliant and joyous heroine of so many mad orgies was now only the shadow of her former self.Misery and grief were impressed on that countenance, once so charming.Hardly had she entered the room, when Cephyse paused; her mournful and unquiet gaze strove to penetrate the half-obscurity of the apartment, in search of him she longed to see.Suddenly the girl started, and uttered a loud scream.
She had just perceived, at the other side of a long table, by the bluish light of the punch, Jacques struggling with Morok and one of the guests, who were hardly able to restrain his convulsive movements.
At this sight Cephyse, in her first alarm, carried away by her affection, did what she had so often done in the intoxication of joy and pleasure.
Light and agile, instead of losing precious time in making a long circuit, she sprang at once upon the table, passed nimbly through the array of plates and bottles, and with one spring was by the side of the sufferer.
"Jacques!" she exclaimed, without yet remarking the lion-tamer, and throwing herself on the neck of her lover."Jacques! it is I--Cephyse!"
That well-known voice, that heart-piercing cry, which came from the bottom of the soul, seemed not unheard by Sleepinbuff.He turned his head mechanically towards the Bacchanal Queen, without opening his eyes, and heaved a deep sigh; his stiffened limbs relaxed, a slight trembling succeeded to the convulsions, and in a few seconds his heavy eyelids were raised with an effort, so as to uncover his dull and wandering gaze.
Mute with astonishment, the spectators of this scene felt an uneasy curiosity.Cephyse, kneeling beside her lover, bathed his hands in her tears, covered them with kisses, and exclaimed, in a voice broken by sobs, "It is I--Cephyse--I have found you again--it was not my fault that I abandoned you! Forgive me, forgive--"
"Wretched woman!" cried Morok, irritated at this meeting, which might, perhaps, be fatal to his projects; "do you wish to kill him? In his present state, this agitation is death.Begone!" So saying, he seized Cephyse suddenly by the arm, just as Jacques, waking, as it were, from a painful dream, began to distinguish what was passing around him.
"You! It is you!" cried the Bacchanal Queen, in amazement, as she recognized Morok, "who separated me from Jacques!"
She paused; for the dim eye of the victim, as it rested upon her, grew suddenly bright.
"Cephyse!" murmured Jacques; "is it you?"
"Yes, it is I," answered she, in a voice of deep emotion; "who have come-
---I will tell you--"
She was unable to continue, and, as she clasped her hands together, her pale, agitated, tearful countenance expressed her astonishment and despair at the mortal change which had taken place in the features of Jacques.He understood the cause of her surprise, and as he contemplated, in his turn, the suffering and emaciated countenance of Cephyse.he said to her, "Poor girl! you also have had to bear much grief, much misery--I should hardly have known you."
"Yes," replied Cephyse, "much grief--much misery--and worse than misery,"
she added, trembling, whilst a deep blush overspread her pale features.
"Worse than misery?" said Jacques, astonished.
"But it is you who have suffered," hastily resumed Cephyse, without answering her lover.
"Just now, I was going to make an end of it--your voice has recalled me for an instant--but I feel something here," and he laid his hand upon his breast, "which never gives quarter.It is all the same now--I have seen you--I shall die happy."
"You shall not die, Jacques; I am here--"
"Listen to one, my girl.If I had a bushel of live coal in my stomach, it could hardly burn me more.For more than a month, I have been consuming my body by a slow fire.This gentleman," he added, glancing at Morok, "this dear friend, always undertook to feed the flame.I do not regret life; I have lost the habit of work, and taken to drink and riot;
I should have finished by becoming a thorough blackguard: I preferred that my friend here should amuse himself with lighting a furnace in my inside.Since what I drank just now, I am certain that it fumes like yonder punch."
"You are both foolish and ungrateful," said Morok, shrugging his shoulders; "you held out your glass, and I filled it--and, faith, we shall drink long and often together yet."
For some moments, Cephyse had not withdrawn her eyes from Morok."I tell you, that you have long blown the fire, in which I have burnt my skin,"
resumed Jacques, addressing Morok in a feeble voice, "so that they may not think I die of cholera.It would look as if I had been frightened by the part I played.I do not therefore reproach you, my affectionate friend," added he, with a sardonic smile; "you dug my grave gayly--and sometimes, when, seeing the great dark hole, into which I was about to fall, I drew back a step--but you, my excellent friend, still pushed me forward, saying, `Go on, my boy, go on!'--and I went on--and here I am--"
So saying, Sleepinbuff burst into a bitter laugh, which sent an icy shudder through the spectators of this scene.
"My good fellow," said Morok, coolly, "listen to me, and follow my advice."
"Thank you! I know your advice--and, instead of listening to you, I prefer speaking to my poor Cephyse.Before I go down to the moles, I should like to tell her what weighs on my heart."
"Jacques," replied Cephyse, "do not talk so.I tell you, you shall not die."
"Why, then, my brave Cephyse, I shall owe my life to you," returned Jacques, in a tone of serious feeling, which surprised the spectators.
