es me uneasy--is it Shears? Ah, if it's he, in his present
state of exasperation, I have everything to fear!"

He hesitated a moment: "I wonder if we hadn't better turn back. Yes, I
have a nasty presentiment of evil."

Gently undulating plains stretched before them as far as the eye could
see. A little to the left, a series of handsome avenues of trees led to
the farm of the Neuvillette, the buildings of which were now in view.
It was the retreat which he had prepared, the haven of rest which he
had promised Raymonde. Was he, for the sake of an absurd idea, to
renounce happiness at the very moment when it seemed within his reach?

He took Isidore by the arm and, calling his attention to Raymonde, who
was walking in front of them:

"Look at her. When she walks, her figure has a little swing at the
waist which I cannot see without quivering. But everything in her gives
me that thrill of emotion and love: her movements and her repose, her
silence and the sound of her voice. I tell you, the mere fact that I am
walking in the track of her footsteps makes me feel in the seventh
heaven. Ah, Beautrelet, will she ever forget that I was once Lupin?
Shall I ever be able to wipe out from her memory the past which she
loathes and detests?" He mastered himself and, with obstinate
assurance. "She will forget!" he declared. "She will forget, because I
have made every sacrifice for her sake. I have sacrificed the
inviolable sanctuary of the Hollow Needle, I have sacrificed my
treasures, my power, my pride--I will sacrifice everything--I don't
want to be anything more--but just a man in love--and an honest man,
because she can only love an honest man. After all, why should I not be
honest? It is no more degrading than anything else!"

The quip escaped him, so to speak, unawares. His voice remained serious
and free of all chaff. And he muttered, with restrained violence:

"Ah, Beautrelet, you see, of all the unbridled joys which I have tasted
in my adventurous life, there is not one that equals the joy with which
her look fills me when she is pleased with me. I feel quite weak then,
and I should like to cry--" Was he crying? Beautrelet had an intuition
that his eyes were wet with tears. Tears in Lupin's eyes!--Tears of
love!

They were nearing an old gate that served as an entrance to the farm.
Lupin stopped for a moment and stammered:

"Why am I afraid?--I feel a sort of weight on my chest. Is the
adventure of the Hollow Needle