y and sat down beneath her window.

I do not know whether she recognized me; I had been there some time when
I heard her sweet, fresh voice singing the refrain of a romance, and
at the same instant a flower fell on my shoulder. It was a rose she
had worn that evening on her bosom; I picked it up and pressed it to my
lips.

"Who is there at this hour? Is it you?"

She called me by name. The gate leading into the garden was open; I
arose without replying and entered it, I stopped before a plot of grass
in the centre of the garden; I was walking like a somnambulist, without
knowing what I was doing.

Suddenly I saw her at the door opening into the garden; she seemed to be
undecided and looked attentively at the rays of the moon. She made a few
steps toward me and I advanced to meet her. I could not speak, I fell on
my knees before her and seized her hand.

"Listen to me," she said; "I know all; but if it has come to that,
Octave, you must go away. You come here every day and you are always
welcome, are you not? Is not that enough? What more can I do for you? My
friendship you have won; I wish you had been able to keep yours a little
longer."

When Madame Pierson had spoken these words she waited in silence as
though expecting a reply. As I remained overwhelmed with sadness, she
gently withdrew her hand, stepped back, waited a moment longer and then
reentered the house.

I remained kneeling on the grass. I had been expecting what she said; my
resolution was soon taken, and I decided to go away. I arose, my heart
bleeding but firm. I looked at the house, at her window; I opened the
garden-gate and placed my lips on the lock as I passed out.

When I reached home I told Larive to make what preparations were
necessary, as I would set out in the morning. The poor fellow was
astonished, but I made him a sign to obey and ask no questions.
He brought a large trunk and busied himself with preparations for
departure.

It was five o'clock in the morning and day was beginning to break when I
asked myself where I was going. At that thought, which had not occurred
to me before, I experienced a profound feeling of discouragement. I cast
my eyes over the country, scanning the horizon. A sense of weakness took
possession of me; I was exhausted with fatigue. I sat down in a chair
and my ideas became confused; I bore my hand to my forehead and found it
bathed in sweat. A violent fever made my limbs tremble; I could hardly
reach my