you that I preached, and when I turned towards my flock
to bless them, it was you alone, sweet lamb, that I blessed in the name of
the Father. You understand now, why I shall go away enveloped in sorrow.

--But, sir, I do not deserve the honour which you do me, and I am unworthy
to occupy your thoughts in this way.

--Do not say that, for since I have seen you, you have become, without my
knowing how, the joy of my life, the source from which I draw my sweetest
and most holy pleasures. With the memory of you, I lull myself in the
Infinite. I see Heaven and the angels, I dream of Seraphims who resemble
you, who bear me on their diaphanous wings into the abode where all is joy
and love ... heavenly love, dear Suzanne, love like that of the angels for
the Virgin, the mother, eternally pure, of our sweet Saviour. You see, you
have no reasons to be offended with my dreams. You are not offended at
them, are you?

--Why should I be offended at them, said Suzanne softly. Can one be
offended with dreams?

--You remember that night, when, alone as we are now, I allowed myself in a
moment of pious transport, to bear to my lips your lovely hand. I have
often blushed at it.... I have blushed at it, because I thought that you
might have mistaken that respectful kiss. I kissed it as I should have
kissed the hem of a queen's robe, if that queen had been a saint, as I
should have kissed the feet of the Virgin, as Magdalena kissed those of
Christ, as I kiss it at this moment, dear, dear Suzanne.

And his lips rested on that little warm, quivering, feverish hand, and they
could no more be separated from it.

And, when at length he withdrew his mouth from it, he found that Suzanne
was so near to him that he heard the beatings of her heart.

--Leave me, said the imprudent girl, I entreat you, leave me. Oh, why are
you doing that?

And she tried with vain efforts to loosen herself from the embrace.

But he murmured softly:

--Leave you, oh, never; you shall be my companion in life as you are my
betrothed before the Eternal. Leave you, dear Suzanne, sweet mystic rose,
chosen vessel. See, there is something stronger than all the laws and all
the proprieties; it is a look from you. Why do you repulse me? I speak to
you as to the Virgin, and I kiss your knees. Chaste betrothed of the
Levite, let me espouse you before God.

She struggled with all her might, excited and maddened. But what can the
dove do in the talons of the hawk! Pre