As I climbed swiftly up the vineyard path I caught sight of a light in Acia’s room. . . . This reassured me a little.
I went up to the house. Th e door below was fastened. I knocked. A window on the ground floor was cautiously opened, and Gagin’s head appeared.
“Have you found her?” I asked.
“She has come back,” he answered in a whisper. “She is in her own room undressing. Everything is all right.”
“Thank God!” I cried, in an indescribable rush of joy. “Thank God! now everything is right. But you know we must have another talk.”
“Another time,” he replied, softly drawing the casement towards him. “Another time; but now good - bye.”
“Till to - morrow,” I said. “To - morrow everything shall be arranged.”
“Good - bye,” repeated Gagin. The window was closed. I was on the point of knocking at the window. I was on the point of telling Gagin there and then that I wanted to ask him for his sister’s hand. But such a proposal at such a time. . . . “To - morrow,” I reflected, “to - morrow I shall be happy. . . .”
To - morrow I shall be happy! Happiness has no to - morrow, no yesterday; it thinks not on the past, and dreams not of the future; it has the present - - not a day even - - a moment.
I don’t remember how I got to Z. It was not my legs that carried me, nor a boat that ferried me across; I felt that I was borne along by great, mighty wings. I passed a bush where a nightingale was singing. I stopped and listened long; I fancied it sang my love and happiness.