"She suffers, and she will not tell me," thought the old man. "She is
dying, like a flower wilted by the burning sun."
And the old man wept.
CHAPTER II
SERAPHITA
Later in the evening David re-entered the salon.
"I know who it is you have come to announce," said Seraphita in a
sleepy voice. "Wilfrid may enter."
Hearing these words a man suddenly presented himself, crossed the room
and sat down beside her.
"My dear Seraphita, are you ill?" he said. "You look paler than
usual."
She turned slowly towards him, tossing back her hair like a pretty
woman whose aching head leaves her no strength even for complaint.
"I was foolish enough to cross the fiord with Minna," she said. "We
ascended the Falberg."
"Do you mean to kill yourself?" he said with a lover's terror.
"No, my good Wilfrid; I took the greatest care of your Minna."
Wilfrid struck his hand violently on a table, rose hastily, and made
several steps towards the door with an exclamation full of pain; then
he returned and seemed about to remonstrate.
"Why this disturbance if you think me ill?" she said.
"Forgive me, have mercy!" he cried, kneeling beside her. "Speak to me
harshly if you will; exact all that the cruel fancies of a woman lead
you to imagine I least can bear; but oh, my beloved, do not doubt my
love.
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