the church they could see the _Cashmere_ making
preparations for her departure.

"You are in time," said Gilliatt.

They chose again the path leading to the Havelet.

Caudray and Deruchette went before, Gilliatt this time walking behind
them. They were two somnambulists. Their bewilderment had not passed
away, but only changed in form. They took no heed of whither they were
going, or of what they did. They hurried on mechanically, scarcely
remembering the existence of anything, feeling that they were united for
ever, but scarcely able to connect two ideas in their minds. In ecstasy
like theirs it is as impossible to think as it is to swim in a torrent.
In the midst of their trouble and darkness they had been plunged in a
whirlpool of delight; they bore a paradise within themselves. They did
not speak, but conversed with each other by the mysterious sympathy of
their souls. Deruchette pressed Caudray's arm to her side.

The footsteps of Gilliatt behind them reminded them now and then that he
was there. They were deeply moved, but could find no words. The excess
of emotion results in stupor. Theirs was delightful, but overwhelming.
They were man and wife: every other idea was postponed to that. What
Gilliatt had done was well; that was all that they could grasp. They
experienced towards their guide a deep but vague gratitude in their
hearts. Deruchette felt that there was some mystery to be explained, but
not now. Meanwhile they accepted their unexpected happiness. They felt
themselves controlled by the abruptness and decision of this man who
conferred on them so much happiness with a kind of authority. To
question him, to talk with him seemed impossible. Too many impressions
rushed into their minds at once for that. Their absorption was
pardonable.

Events succeed each other sometimes with the rapidity of hailstones.
Their effect is overpowering; they deaden the senses. Falling upon
existences habitually calm, they render incidents rapidly unintelligible
even to those whom they chiefly concern; we become scarcely conscious of
our own adventures; we are overwhelmed without guessing the cause, or
crowned with happiness without comprehending it. For some hours
Deruchette had been subjected to every kind of emotion: at first,
surprise and delight at meeting Caudray in the garden; then horror at
the monster whom her uncle had presented as her husband; then her
anguish when the angel of her dreams spread his wings and se