ddressing Rodin, to
apologize for having suspected him. But the obstinate silence of the
Indian redoubled the lady's painful embarrassment. Again raising her
eyes towards the prince, to invite him to respond to her fraternal
offer, she met his ardent gaze wildly fixed upon her, and she looked
once more with a mixture of fear, sadness, and wounded pride; then she
congratulated herself on having foreseen the inexorable necessity of
keeping Djalma at a distance from her, such apprehension did this ardent
and impetuous nature already inspire. Wishing to put an end to her
present painful situation, she said to Rodin, in a low and trembling
voice, "Pray, sir, speak to the prince; repeat to him my offers. I
cannot remain longer." So saying, Adrienne turned, as if to rejoin
Florine. But, at the first step, Djalma sprang towards her with the
bound of a tiger, about to be deprived of his prey. Terrified by the
expression of wild excitement which inflamed the Indian's countenance,
the young lady drew back with a loud scream.

At this, Djalma remembered himself, and all that had passed. Pale with
regret and shame, trembling, dismayed, his eyes streaming with tears,
and all his features marked with an expression of the most touching
despair, he fell at Adrienne's feet, and lifting his clasped hands
towards her, said in a soft, supplicating, timid voice: "Oh, remain!
remain! do not leave me. I have waited for you so long!" To this prayer,
uttered with the timid simplicity of a child, and a resignation which
contrasted strangely with the savage violence that had so frightened
Adrienne, she replied, as she made a sign to Florine to prepare for
their departure: "Prince, it is impossible for me to remain longer
here."

"But you will return?" said Djalma, striving to restrain his tears. "I
shall see you again?"

"Oh, no! never--never!" said Mdlle. de Cardoville, in a failing voice.
Then, profiting by the stupor into which her answer had thrown Djalma,
Adrienne disappeared rapidly behind the plants in the greenhouse.

Florine was hastening to rejoin her mistress, when, just at the
moment she passed before Rodin, he said to her in a low, quick voice:
"To-morrow we must finish with the hunchback." Florine trembled in every
limb, and, without answering Rodin, disappeared, like her mistress,
behind the plants. Broken, overpowered, Djalma remained upon his knees,
with his head resting on his breast. His countenance expressed neither
rage n