The drug had gently taken all these away from her, without her perceiving it.The chloroform had drawn away her body, leaving her only her mind, more awakened, more active, larger, and more free than she had ever felt it.
She recalled a thousand forgotten things, little details of her childhood, trifles which had given her pleasure.Endowed suddenly with an awakened agility, her mind leaped to the most diverse ideas, ran through a thousand adventures, wandered in the past, and lost itself in the hoped-for events of the future.And her lively and careless thoughts had a sensuous charm: she experienced a divine pleasure in dreaming thus.
She still heard the voices, but she could no longer distinguish the words, which to her seemed to have a different meaning.She was in a kind of strange and changing fairyland.
She was on a great boat which floated through a beautiful country, all covered with flowers.She saw people on the shore, and these people spoke very loudly; then she was again on land, without asking how, and Servigny, clad as a prince, came to seek her, to take her to a bull-fight.
The streets were filled with passers-by, who were talking, and she heard conversations which did not astonish her, as if she had known the people, for through her dreamy intoxication, she still heard her mother's friends laughing and talking on the terrace.
Then everything became vague.Then she awakened, deliciously benumbed, and she could hardly remember what had happened.
So, she was not yet dead.But she felt so calm, in such a state of physical comfort, that she was not in haste to finish with it--she wanted to make this exquisite drowsiness last forever.
She breathed slowly and looked at the moon, opposite her, above the trees.Something had changed in her spirit.She no longer thought as she had done just now.The chloroform quieting her body and her soul had calmed her grief and lulled her desire to die.
Why should she not live? Why should she not be loved? Why should she not lead a happy life? Everything appeared possible to her now, and easy and certain.Everything in life was sweet, everything was charming.But as she wished to dream on still, she poured more of the dream-water on the cotton and began to breathe it in again, stopping at times, so as not to absorb too much of it and die.
She looked at the moon and saw in it a face, a woman's face.She began to scorn the country in the fanciful intoxication of the drug.
That face swung in the sky; then it sang, it sang with a well-known voice the alleluia of love.
It was the Marquise, who had come in and seated herself at the piano.
Yvette had wings now.She was flying through a clear night, above the wood and streams.She was flying with delight, opening and closing her wings, borne by the wind as by a caress.She moved in the air, which kissed her skin, and she went so fast, so fast, that she had no time to see anything beneath her, and she found herself seated on the bank of a pond with a line in her hand; she was fishing.
Something pulled on the cord, and when she drew it out of the water, it bore a magnificent pearl necklace, which she had longed for some time ago.She was not at all astonished at this deed, and she looked at Servigny, who had come to her side--she knew not how.He was fishing also, and drew out of the river a wooden horse.
Then she had anew the feeling of awaking, and she heard some one calling down stairs.Her mother had said:
"Put out the candle." Then Servigny's voice rose, clear and jesting:
"Put out your candle, Mam'zelle Yvette."
And all took up the chorus: "Mam'zelle Yvette, put out your candle."She again poured chloroform on the cotton, but, as she did not want to die, she placed it far enough from her face to breathe the fresh air, while nevertheless her room was filled with the asphyxiating odor of the narcotic, for she knew that some one was coming, and taking a suitable posture, a pose of the dead, she waited.
The Marquise said: "I am a little uneasy! That foolish child has gone to sleep leaving the light on her table.I will send Clemence to put it out, and to shut the balcony window, which is wide open."And soon the maid rapped on the door calling: "Mademoiselle, Mademoiselle!" After a moment's silence, she repeated:
"Mademoiselle, Madame the Marquise begs you to put out your candle and shut the window."Clemence waited a little, then knocked louder, and cried:
"Mademoiselle, Mademoiselle!"
As Yvette did not reply, the servant went away and reported to the Marquise:
"Mademoiselle must have gone to sleep, her door is bolted, and Icould not awaken her."
Madame Obardi murmured:
"But she must not stay like that,"
Then, at the suggestion of Servigny, they all gathered under the window, shouting in chorus:
"Hip! hip! hurrah! Mam'zelle Yvette."
Their clamor rose in the calm night, through the transparent air beneath the moon, over the sleeping country; and they heard it die away in the distance like the sound of a disappearing train.
As Yvette did not answer the Marquise said: "I only hope that nothing has happened.I am beginning to be afraid."Then Servigny, plucking red roses from a big rosebush trained along the wall and buds not yet opened, began to throw them into the room through the window.
At the first rose that fell at her side, Yvette started and almost cried out.Others fell upon her dress, others upon her hair, while others going over her head fell upon the bed, covering it with a rain of flowers.
The Marquise, in a choking voice, cried: "Come, Yvette, answer."Then Servigny declared: "Truly this is not natural; I am going to climb up by the balcony."But the Chevalier grew indignant.
"Now, let me do it," he said."It is a great favor I ask; it is too good a means, and too good a time to obtain a rendezvous."All the rest, who thought the young girl was joking, cried: "We protest! He shall not climb up."But the Marquise, disturbed, repeated: "And yet some one must go and see."The Prince exclaimed with a dramatic gesture:
"She favors the Duke, we are betrayed."
