nto sobs.

"What is the matter; why are you crying?" asked Silvere in an anxious
voice.

"Oh, leave me," she faltered, "I do not know."

Then in spite of herself, as it were, she continued amidst her tears:
"Ah! what an unfortunate creature I am! When I was ten years old
people used to throw stones at me. To-day I am treated as the vilest of
creatures. Justin did right to despise me before everybody. We have been
doing wrong, Silvere."

The young man, quite dismayed, clasped her in his arms again, trying
to console her. "I love you," he whispered, "I am your brother. Why
say that we have been doing wrong? We kissed each other because we were
cold. You know very well that we used to kiss each other every evening
before separating."

"Oh! not as we did just now," she whispered. "It must be wrong, for a
strange feeling came over me. The men will laugh at me now as I pass,
and they will be right in doing so. I shall not be able to defend
myself."

The young fellow remained silent, unable to find a word to calm the
agitation of this big child, trembling at her first kiss of love. He
clasped her gently, imagining that he might calm her by his embrace.
She struggled, however, and continued: "If you like, we will go away; we
will leave the province. I can never return to Plassans; my uncle would
beat me; all the townspeople would point their fingers at me--" And
then, as if seized with sudden irritation, she added: "But no! I am
cursed! I forbid you to leave aunt Dide to follow me. You must leave me
on the highway."

"Miette, Miette!" Silvere implored; "don't talk like that."

"Yes. I want to please you. Be reasonable. They have turned me out like
a vagabond. If I went back with you, you would always be fighting for my
sake, and I don't want that."

At this the young man again pressed a kiss upon her lips, murmuring:
"You shall be my wife, and nobody will then dare to hurt you."

"Oh! please, I entreat you!" she said, with a stifled cry; "don't kiss
me so. You hurt me."

Then, after a short silence: "You know quite well that I cannot be your
wife now. We are too young. You would have to wait for me, and meanwhile
I should die of shame. You are wrong in protesting; you will be forced
to leave me in some corner."

At this Silvere, his fortitude exhausted, began to cry. A man's sobs
are fraught with distressing hoarseness. Miette, quite frightened as
she felt the poor fellow shaking in her arms, kissed him on the f