y cure, and must be ready to
start on the morrow, Serapion leaves him. Romuald is in despair at
quitting the neighbourhood of Clarimonde. But his seminarist
inexperience makes him feel, more than ever, the impossibility even of
discovering her, and the hints of Serapion have in a manner reawakened
his conscience. He departs on the morrow without protest. They quit the
city, and begin to climb the hills which surround it.

At the top I turned round once more to give a last look to
the place where dwelt Clarimonde. The city lay wholly in the
shadow of a cloud; its blue and red roofs were blended in
one general half-tint, above which here and there white
flakes of the smoke of morning fires hovered. By some
optical accident a single edifice stood out gilded by a ray
of light, and more lofty than the mass of surrounding
buildings. Though more than a league off, it seemed close to
us. The smallest details were visible--the turrets, the
terraces, the windows, and even the swallow-tailed vanes.
"What is that sunlit palace yonder?" I asked of Serapion. He
shaded his eyes with his hand, and after looking he
answered, "It is the palace which Prince Concini gave to the
courtesan Clarimonde. Terrible things are done there." As he
spoke, whether it were fact or fancy I know not, it seemed
to me that I saw a slender white form glide out on the
terrace, glitter there for a second, and then disappear. It
was Clarimonde! Could she have known that at that moment,
from the rugged heights of the hill which separated me from
her, and which I was never more to descend, I was bending a
restless and burning gaze on the palace of her abode,
brought near me by a mocking play of light, as if to invite
me to enter? Ah yes! she knew it doubtless, for her soul was
bound to mine too nearly not to feel its least movements;
and this it must have been which urged her to climb the
terrace in the cold morning dews, wrapped only in her snowy
nightgear.

But the die is cast, and the journey continues. They reach the modest
parsonage where Romuald is to pass the rest of his days, and he is
installed in his cure, Serapion returning to the city. Romuald attacks
his work desperately, hoping to find peace there, but he very partially
succeeds. The words of Clarimonde and the touch of her hand haunt him
constantly, and sometim