act, since he had dreamt about it, she had began to do the same,
in spite of herself, her attention roused by his involuntary allusions.
They scarcely affected her at first, though she was obliged at last to
notice them; still the question seemed to her to be beyond the range
of possibility, to be one of those unavowable ideas which people do not
even speak of. The fear that he would dare to ask her did not even occur
to her; she knew him well by now; she could have silenced him with a
gesture, before he had stammered the first words, and in spite of his
sudden bursts of anger. It was simple madness. Never, never!

Days went by, and between them that fixed idea grew in intensity. The
moment they were together they could not help thinking of it. Not a word
was spoken on the subject, but their very silence was eloquent; they no
longer made a movement, no longer exchanged a smile without stumbling
upon that thought, which they found impossible to put into words, though
it filled their minds. Soon nothing but that remained in their fraternal
intercourse. And the perturbation of heart and senses which they had
so far avoided in the course of their familiar intimacy, came at last,
under the influence of the all-besetting thought. And then the anguish
which they left unmentioned, but which they could not hide from one
another, racked and stifled them, left them heaving distressfully with
painful sighs.

Towards the middle of March, Christine, at one of her visits, found
Claude seated before his picture, overcome with sorrow. He had not
even heard her enter. He remained motionless, with vacant, haggard eyes
staring at his unfinished work. In another three days the delay for
sending in exhibits for the Salon would expire.

'Well,' she inquired gently, after standing for a long time behind him,
grief-stricken at seeing him in such despair.

He started and turned round.

'Well, it's all up. I sha'n't exhibit anything this year. Ah! I who
relied so much upon this Salon!'

Both relapsed into despondency--a despondency and agitation full of
confused thoughts. Then she resumed, thinking aloud as it were:

'There would still be time.'

'Time? Oh! no indeed. A miracle would be needed. Where am I to find a
model so late in the day? Do you know, since this morning I have been
worrying, and for a moment I thought I had hit upon an idea: Yes, it
would be to go and fetch that girl, that Irma who came while you were
here. I know well