d her bravely in the face, and with the smile of a dying man who
desires death, recovering his voice of divine goodness, he said:

"How excited you get! Can you not do your duty quietly, like everybody
else? I have a great deal of work to do, and I need to be alone; and
you, dear, you ought to go to your brother. Go then, everything is
ended."

There was a terrible silence for the space of a few seconds. She looked
at him earnestly, hoping that he would change his mind. Was he really
speaking the truth? was he not sacrificing himself in order that she
might be happy? For a moment she had an intuition that this was the
case, as if some subtle breath, emanating from him, had warned her of
it.

"And you are sending me away forever? You will not permit me to come
back to-morrow?"

But he held out bravely; with another smile he seemed to answer that
when one went away like this it was not to come back again on the
following day. She was now completely bewildered; she knew not what to
think. It might be possible that he had chosen work sincerely; that the
man of science had gained the victory over the lover. She grew still
paler, and she waited a little longer, in the terrible silence; then,
slowly, with her air of tender and absolute submission, she said:

"Very well, master, I will go away whenever you wish, and I will not
return until you send for me."

The die was cast. The irrevocable was accomplished. Each felt that
neither would attempt to recall the decision that had been made; and,
from this instant, every minute that passed would bring nearer the
separation.

Felicite, surprised at not being obliged to say more, at once desired
to fix the time for Clotilde's departure. She applauded herself for her
tenacity; she thought she had gained the victory by main force. It
was now Friday, and it was settled that Clotilde should leave on the
following Sunday. A despatch was even sent to Maxime.

For the past three days the mistral had been blowing. But on this
evening its fury was redoubled, and Martine declared, in accordance with
the popular belief, that it would last for three days longer. The winds
at the end of September, in the valley of the Viorne, are terrible. So
that the servant took care to go into every room in the house to assure
herself that the shutters were securely fastened. When the mistral blew
it caught La Souleiade slantingly, above the roofs of the houses of
Plassans, on the little plateau on w