Fires of St. John Part 17

Marie.

And have you found----?

Gertrude.

What was he to find?

George.

Yes, what was I to find? But, children, your tulip-tree is certainly a strange fellow. There he stands, blooming alone, like the last rose of summer----

Gertrude.

My great-grandfather brought it from South America!

George.

[_To_ Marie.] And that is why you love it so, because it is so foreign and strange?

Marie.

[_Busy with linen_.] Perhaps!

Gertrude.

No, that is not the reason----

Marie.

Well then, what is it?

Gertrude.

I'm going to tell on you. One day papa took her to the Opera, down in the city; there they saw the African----

George.

"L'Africaine," you mean?

Gertrude.

Yes, yes, that's what she called it.

Marie.

Gertrude, please don't----

Gertrude.

In that play occurs a poison-tree--I think----

George.

Yes, a manzanillo-tree!

Gertrude.

Yes, yes; and whosoever inhales the odor of its blossoms must die. And do you know what she did? Oh, yes, I did the same--we would go to this tree, smell of its blossoms, and lay down----

George.

To die?

Gertrude.

To die.

Marie.

Now you can imagine, George, how long ago that must have been.

Gertrude.

Yes, it was long, long ago. But about four years ago, one day Marie really wanted to die very badly.

[Marie _casts a frightened glance at_ George, _who returns it thoughtfully_.]

Gertrude.

But we didn't.

George.

No, no, thank heaven. Now, little one, run along and tell papa that I am here.

Gertrude.

Marie, will you come, too?

Marie.

No; I think I will remain here a little while longer.

Gertrude.

Then I'll stay, too.

George.