t you would prove more pitiless than
strangers have been, that you would cast me off when I am so miserable
and heart-broken."

Had not Prosper been so agitated he could have read in the eyes of
Madeleine--those beautiful eyes which had so long been the arbiters of
his destiny--the signs of a great inward struggle.

It was, however, in a firm voice that she replied:

"You know me well enough, Prosper, to be sure than no blow can strike
you without reaching me at the same time. You suffer, I suffer with you:
I pity you as a sister would pity a beloved brother."

"A sister!" said Prosper, bitterly. "Yes, that was the word you used the
day you banished me from your presence. A sister! Then why during three
years did you delude me with vain hopes? Was I a brother to you the day
we went to Notre Dame de Fourvieres, that day when, at the foot of the
altar, we swore to love each other for ever and ever, and you fastened
around my neck a holy relic and said, 'Wear this always for my sake,
never part from it, and it will bring you good fortune'?"

Madeleine attempted to interrupt him by a supplicating gesture: he would
not heed it, but continued with increased bitterness:

"One month after that happy day--a year ago--you gave me back my
promise, told me to consider myself free from any engagement, and never
to come near you again. If I could have discovered in what way I had
offended you--But no, you refused to explain. You drove me away, and to
obey you I told everyone that I had left you of my own accord. You told
me that an invincible obstacle had arisen between us, and I believed
you, fool that I was! The obstacle was your own heart, Madeleine. I
have always worn the medal; but it has not brought me happiness or good
fortune."

As white and motionless as a statue, Madeleine stood with bowed head
before this storm of passionate reproach.

"I told you to forget me," she murmured.

"Forget!" exclaimed Prosper, excitedly, "forget! Can I forget! Is it in
my power to stop, by an effort of will, the circulation of my blood? Ah,
you have never loved! To forget, as to stop the beatings of the heart,
there is but one means--death!"

This word, uttered with the fixed determination of a desperate, reckless
man, caused Madeleine to shudder.

"Miserable man!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, miserable man, and a thousand times more miserable than you can
imagine! You can never understand the tortures I have suffered, when for
a year I