ent toward him, seemed to ask for this caress.

Clemence made a sudden effort and arose, fastening her hair at the back
of her head with an almost shamed haste.

"Will you refuse me one lock of your hair as a souvenir of this hour?"
said Octave, stopping her gently as she was about to replace her comb.

"Do you need any souvenir?" she replied, giving him a glance which was
neither a reproach nor a refusal.

"The souvenir is in my heart, the hair will never leave my bosom! We live
in an unworthy age. I can not boast of wearing your colors in everybody's
eyes, and yet I should like to wear a sign of my bondage."

She let her hair fall down her back again, but seemed embarrassed as to
how to execute his wish.

"I can not cut my hair with my teeth," she said, with a smile which
betrayed a double row of pearls.

Octave took a stiletto from his pocket.

"Why do you always carry this stiletto?" asked the young woman, in a
changed voice; "it frightens me to see you armed thus."

"Fear nothing," said Gerfaut, who did not reply to her question, "I will
respect the hair which serves you as a crown. I know where I must cut it,
and, if my ambition is great, my hand shall be discreet."

Madame de Bergenheim had no confidence in his moderation, and, fearing to
leave her beautiful hair to her lover's mercy, she took the stiletto and
cut off a little lock which she drew through her fingers and then offered
to him, with a loving gesture that doubled the value of the gift. At this
moment, hunting-horns resounded in the distance.

"I must leave you now!" exclaimed Clemence, "I must. My dear love, let me
go now; say good-by to me."

She leaned toward him and presented her forehead to receive this adieu.
It was her lips which met Octave's, but this kiss was rapid and fleeting
as a flash of light. Withdrawing from the arms which would yet retain
her, she darted out of the grotto, and in a moment had disappeared in one
of the shady paths.

For some time, plunged in deep reflection, Gerfaut stood on the same
spot; but at last arousing himself from this dreamy languor, he climbed
the rock so as to reach the top of the cliff. After taking a few steps he
stopped with a frightened look, as if he had espied some venomous reptile
in his path. He could see, through the bushes which bordered the crest of
the plateau at the top of the ladder cut in the rock, Bergenheim,
motionless, and in the attitude of a man who is trying to conceal hims