He gazed at her not understanding her words, and
being too shy to answer, he nodded.
When she stopped speaking the room grew very
still; neither Elise nor Goundran moved — for some
reason they were loth to break that stillness. Once
only did Goundran glance across at the girl with a
slightly anxious look of enquiry. Then an unexpected
and disturbing thing happened; two large tears
welled up in Mathilde's dim eyes and, overflowing,
splashed onto her apron.
Seeing this, Elise went quickly to her chair: 'Why
are you weeping?' she asked her kindly.
And Goundran called Christophe: 'Enfantounet,
come here!3 For he thought that their visit had proved
too tiring. "She is old, very old/ he explained in a low
voice, 'and sometimes the old may resemble young
children, so that they cry when they are fatigued. Now
stand still for a little until she is rested.3
But Mathilde said slowly: CI am weeping for joy
. . . there is so little difference between joy and
sorrow; like everything else they are intertwined
. . . the bright light that brings with it the deepest
shadow . . . there is so little difference, yet I cannot
explain . . . *
cDo not worry yourself any more,3 Goundran
soothed her, 'And now I think that Elise shall fetch
wine and cakes, for I seem to remember that Chris-
tophe is as fond of sweet things as his greedy god-
father!3
So Elise went and fetched two dishes of cakes —
pink and white heart-shaped cakes of her own special
baking. And a bottle of wine she set upon the table,
then proceeded to pour out the wine for Goundran;
and when she had done this she handed him the glass
together with a small, pink, sugary heart —very
beautifully iced, very skilfully fashioned.
cLet us drink to our Christophe here;' he said
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