Girgenti. Same day.
Her manners had shocked me. I left her to arrange herself in herlettica, and I made myself as comfortable as I could in my own. Thesevehicles, which have no wheels, are carried by two mules--one before andone behind. This kind of litter, or chaise, is of ancient origin. I hadoften seen representations of similar ones in the French MSS. of thefourteenth century. I had no idea then that one of those vehicles wouldbe at a future day placed at my own disposal. We must never be too sureof anything.
For three hours the mules sounded their little bells, and thumped thecalcined ground with their hoofs. On either hand there slowly defiled byus the barren monstrous shapes of a nature totally African.
Half-way we made a halt to allow our animals to recover breath.
Madame Trepof came to me on the road, took my arm, and drew me a littleaway from the party. Then, very suddenly, she said to me in a tone ofvoice I had never heard before:
"Do not think that I am a wicked woman. My George knows that I am a goodmother."
We walked side by side for a moment in silence. She looked up, and I sawthat she was crying.
"Madame," I said to her, "look at this soil which has been burned andcracked by five long months of fiery heat. A little white lily hassprung up from it."
And I pointed with my cane to the frail stalk, tipped by a doubleblossom.
"Your heart," I said, "however arid it be, bears also its white lily;and that is reason enough why I do not believe that you are what yousay--a wicked woman."
"Yes, yes, yes!" she cried, with the obstinacy of a child--"I am awicked woman. But I am ashamed to appear so before you who are sogood--so very, very good."
"You do not know anything at all about it," I said to her.
"I know it! I know all about you, Monsieur Bonnard!" she declared, witha smile.
And she jumped back into her lettica.
The Crime of Sylvestre Bonnard Page 11
