France -- History -- Revolution, 1789-1799 -- Fiction
"Mon Dieu! Aline, don’t look like that!" he cried, and in strong
protest his arms slipped lower, and drew her close to his heart that
beat, and beat, as if it would supply the life hers lacked. She came
passively at his touch, and stood in his embrace unresisting and
unresponsive.
Remembering how she had flushed at a look and quivered at a touch, his
fears redoubled, and he caught her close, and closer, kissing her, at
first gently, but in the end with all the force of a passion so long
restrained. For now at last the dam was down, and they stood together in
love’s full flowing tide.
When he drew back, the smile was gone, and the lips that it had left
trembled piteously, as her colour came and went to each quickened
breath.
"Aline," he said, very low, "Aline, my heart! It is new life—new life
together."
She pushed him back a pace then, and raised her eyes with a look he
never forgot. The peace had left them now, and they were troubled to
the depths, and brimmed with tears. Her lips quivered more and more,
the breath came from them in a great sob, and suddenly she fell upon his
breast in a passion of weeping.
THE END
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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