hich he more and more deeply sank, took all
sensation of suffering away from him. He was conscious only of a great
void and blank as he sat there overpowered and benumbed. Even to
read his breviary cost him a great effort. Its Latin seemed to him a
barbarous language, which he would never again be able to pronounce.

Having tossed the book upon his bed he gazed for hours through his open
window at the surrounding country. In the far distance he saw the long
wall of the Paradou, creeping like a thin white line amongst the gloomy
patches of the pine plantations to the crest of the hills. On the left,
hidden by one of those plantations, was the breach. He could not see it,
but he knew it was there. He remembered every bit of bramble scattered
among the stones. On the previous night he would not have thus dared to
gaze upon that dreaded scene. But now with impunity he allowed himself
to trace the whole line of the wall, as it emerged again and again
from the clumps of verdure which here and there concealed it. His
blood pulsed none the faster for this scrutiny. Temptation, as though
disdaining his present weakness, left him free from attack. Forsaken by
the Divine grace, he was incapable of entering upon any struggle, the
thought of sin could no longer even impassion him; it was sheer stupor
alone that now rendered him willing to accept that which he had the day
before so strenuously refused.

At one moment he caught himself talking aloud and saying that, since
the breach in the wall was still open, he would go and join Albine at
sunset. This decision brought him a slight feeling of worry, but he did
not think that he could do otherwise. She was expecting him to go,
and she was his wife. When he tried to picture her face, he could only
imagine her as very pale and a long way off. Then he felt a little
uneasy as to their future manner of life together. It would be difficult
for them to remain in the neighbourhood; they would have to go away
somewhere, without any one knowing anything about it. And then, when
they had managed to conceal themselves, they would need a deal of money
in order to live happily and comfortably. He tried a score of times to
hit upon some scheme by which they could get away and live together like
happy lovers, but he could devise nothing satisfactory. Now that he was
no longer wild with passion, the practical side of the situation
alarmed him. He found himself, in all his weakness, face to face with a