h. But Albine, with
grief at her throat, shot out a protesting glance. She could still
plainly see their lightest footprints on the sandy gravel, and, as they
passed each bush, the warmth with which they had once brushed against it
surged to her cheeks. With eyes full of soft entreaty, she still strove
to awaken Serge's memory. It was along that path that they had walked
in silence, full of emotion, but as yet not daring to confess that they
loved one another. It was in that clearing that they had lingered one
evening till very late watching the stars, which had rained upon
them like golden drops of warmth. Farther, beneath that oak they had
exchanged their first kiss. Its fragrance still clung to the tree, and
the very moss still remembered it. It was false to say that the forest
had become voiceless and bare.

Serge, however, turned away his head, that he might escape the gaze of
Albine's eyes, which oppressed him.

Then she led him to the great rocks. There, perhaps, he would no longer
shudder with that appearance of debility which so distressed her. At
that hour the rocks were still warm with the red glow of the setting
sun. They still wore an aspect of tragic passion, with their hot ledges
of stone whereon the fleshy plants writhed monstrously. Without speaking
a word, without even turning her head, Albine led Serge up the rough
ascent, wishing to take him ever higher and higher, far up beyond the
springs, till they should emerge into the full light on the summit. They
would there see the cedar, beneath whose shade they had first felt
the thrill of desire, and there amidst the glowing stones they would
assuredly find passion once more. But Serge soon began to stumble
pitiably. He could walk no further. He fell a first time on his knees.
Albine, by a mighty effort, raised him and for a moment carried him
along, but afterwards he fell again, and remained, quite overcome, on
the ground. In front of him, beneath him, spread the vast Paradou.

'You have lied!' cried Albine. 'You love me no longer!'

She burst into tears as she stood there by his side, feeling that she
could not carry him any higher. There was no sign of anger in her
now. She was simply weeping over their dying love. Serge lay dazed and
stupefied.

'The garden is all dead. I feel so very cold,' he murmured. But she took
his head between her hands, and showed him the Paradou.

'Look at it! Ah! it is your eyes that are dead; your ears and your limbs