He was obliged to exercise a strong effort of self-control to avoid
uttering a great cry of joy, as he pressed her to his heart. As if it
were another person who spoke, he heard himself saying quietly:

"You refuse--impossible! You must reflect. Let us wait till to-morrow to
give an answer; and let us talk it over, shall we?"

Surprised, she cried excitedly:

"Part from each other! and why? And would you really consent to it? What
folly! we love each other, and you would have me leave you and go away
where no one cares for me! How could you think of such a thing? It would
be stupid."

He avoided touching on this side of the question, and hastened to speak
of promises made--of duty.

"Remember, my dear, how greatly affected you were when I told you that
Maxime was in danger. And think of him now, struck down by disease,
helpless and alone, calling you to his side. Can you abandon him in that
situation? You have a duty to fulfil toward him."

"A duty?" she cried. "Have I any duties toward a brother who has never
occupied himself with me? My only duty is where my heart is."

"But you have promised. I have promised for you. I have said that you
were rational, and you are not going to belie my words."

"Rational? It is you who are not rational. It is not rational to
separate when to do so would make us both die of grief."

And with an angry gesture she closed the discussion, saying:

"Besides, what is the use of talking about it? There is nothing simpler;
it is only necessary to say a single word. Answer me. Are you tired of
me? Do you wish to send me away?"

He uttered a cry.

"Send you away! I! Great God!"

"Then it is all settled. If you do not send me away I shall remain."

She laughed now, and, running to her desk, wrote in red pencil across
her brother's letter two words--"I refuse;" then she called Martine and
insisted upon her taking the letter back at once. Pascal was radiant;
a wave of happiness so intense inundated his being that he let her have
her way. The joy of keeping her with him deprived him even of his power
of reasoning.

But that very night, what remorse did he not feel for having been so
cowardly! He had again yielded to his longing for happiness. A deathlike
sweat broke out upon him when he saw her in imagination far away;
himself alone, without her, without that caressing and subtle essence
that pervaded the atmosphere when she was near; her breath, her
brightness, her courageous