The circumstances of Blanche Stroeve’s death necessitated all manner of dreadful formalities, but at last we were allowed to bury her. —
Dirk and I alone followed the hearse to the cemetery. —
We went at a foot-pace, but on the way back we trotted, and there was something to my mind singularly horrible in the way the driver of the hearse whipped up his horses. —
It seemed to dismiss the dead with a shrug of the shoulders. —
Now and then I caught sight of the swaying hearse in front of us, and our own driver urged his pair so that we might not remain behind. —
I felt in myself, too, the desire to get the whole thing out of my mind. —
I was beginning to be bored with a tragedy that did not really concern me, and pretending to myself that I spoke in order to distract Stroeve, I turned with relief to other subjects.
“Don’t you think you’d better go away for a bit?” I said. —
“There can be no object in your staying in Paris now. “
He did not answer, but I went on ruthlessly:
“Have you made any plans for the immediate future?”
“No. “
“You must try and gather together the threads again. —
Why don’t you go down to Italy and start working?”
Again he made no reply, but the driver of our carriage came to my rescue. —
Slackening his pace for a moment, he leaned over and spoke. —
I could not hear what he said, so I put my head out of the window. —
he wanted to know where we wished to be set down. —
I told him to wait a minute.
“You’d better come and have lunch with me, ” I said to Dirk. “I’ll tell him to drop us in the Place Pigalle. “
“I’d rather not. I want to go to the studio. “
I hesitated a moment.
“Would you like me to come with you?” I asked then.
“No; I should prefer to be alone. “
“All right. “
I gave the driver the necessary direction, and in renewed silence we drove on. —
Dirk had not been to the studio since the wretched morning on which they had taken Blanche to the hospital. —
I was glad he did not want me to accompany him, and when I left him at the door I walked away with relief. —
I took a new pleasure in the streets of Paris, and I looked with smiling eyes at the people who hurried to and fro. —
The day was fine and sunny, and I felt in myself a more acute delight in life. —
I could not help it; I put Stroeve and his sorrows out of my mind. I wanted to enjoy.