Page 356 - Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

LITTLE WOMEN is glad to see me when I get back from my wanderings. Dirty old hole, isn't it?" he added, with a look of disgust as they drove along the boulevard to the Place Napoleon in the old city. "The dirt is picturesque, so I don't mind. The river and the hills are delicious, and these glimpses of the narrow cross streets are my delight. Now we shall have to wait for that procession to pass. It's going to the Church of St. John." While Laurie listlessly watched the procession of priests un- der their canopies, white-veiled nuns bearing lighted tapers, and some brotherhood in blue chanting as they walked, Amy watched him, and felt a new sort of shyness steal over her, for he was changed, and she could not find the merry-faced boy she left in the moody-looking man beside her. He was handsomer than ever and greatly improved, she thought, but now that the flush of pleasure at meeting her was over, he looked tired and spiritless— not sick, nor exactly unhappy, but older and graver than a year or two of prosperous life should have made him. She couldn't understand it and did not venture to ask questions, so she shook her head and touched up her ponies, as the procession wound away across the arches of the Paglioni bridge and vanished in the church. "Que pensez-vous?" she said, airing her French, which had im- proved in quantity, if not in quality, since she came abroad. "That mademoiselle has made good use of her time, and the re- sult is charming," replied Laurie, bowing with his hand on his heart and an admiring look. She blushed with pleasure, but somehow the compliment did not satisfy her like the blunt praises he used to give her at home, when he promenaded round her on festival occasions, and told her she was 'altogether jolly', with a hearty smile and an approv- ing pat on the head. She didn't like the new tone, for though not blase, it sounded indifferent in spite of the look. "If that's the way he's going to grow up, I wish he'd stay a boy," she thought, with a curious sense of disappointment and discom- fort, trying meantime to seem quite easy and gay. At Avigdor's she found the precious home letters and, giving the reins to Laurie, read them luxuriously as they wound up the shady road between green hedges, where tea roses bloomed as freshly as in June. "Beth is very poorly, Mother says. I often think I ought to go home, but they all say 'stay'. So I do, for I shall never have another chance like this," said Amy, looking sober over one page. "I think you are right, there. You could do nothing at home, and 354