the heavens! What is it which is bearing down on
us? An excess of light, which blinds us; an excess of life, which kills
us. That proposal which the heavens make we refuse; that unfathomable
love we reject. We close our eyes; we hide; we tear ourselves away; we
imagine the danger is past. We open our eyes: the formidable star is
still before us; but, no longer a star, it has become a world--a world
unknown, a world of lava and ashes; the devastating prodigy of space. It
fills the sky, allowing no compeers. The carbuncle of the firmament's
depths, a diamond in the distance, when drawn close to us becomes a
furnace. You are caught in its flames. And the first sensation of
burning is that of a heavenly warmth.

CHAPTER IV.

SATAN.

Suddenly the sleeper awoke. She sat up with a sudden and gracious
dignity of movement, her fair silken tresses falling in soft disorder.
Then stretching herself, she yawned like a tigress in the rising sun.

Perhaps Gwynplaine breathed heavily, as we do when we endeavour to
restrain our respiration.

"Is any one there?" said she.

She yawned as she spoke, and her very yawn was graceful. Gwynplaine
listened to the unfamiliar voice--the voice of a charmer, its accents
exquisitely haughty, its caressing intonation softening its native
arrogance. Then rising on her knees--there is an antique statue kneeling
thus in the midst of a thousand transparent folds--she drew the
dressing-gown towards her, and springing from the couch stood upright.
In the twinkling of an eye the silken robe was around her. The trailing
sleeve concealed her hands; only the tips of her toes, with little pink
nails like those of an infant, were left visible. Having drawn from
underneath the dressing-gown a mass of hair which had been imprisoned by
it, she crossed behind the couch to the end of the room, and placed her
ear to the painted mirror, which was, apparently, a door. Tapping the
glass with her finger, she called, "Is any one there? Lord David? Are
you come already? What time is it then? Is that you, Barkilphedro?" She
turned from the glass. "No! it was not there. Is there any one in the
bathroom? Will you answer? Of course not. No one could come that way."

Going to the silver lace curtain, she raised it with her foot, thrust it
aside with her shoulder, and entered the marble room. An agonized
numbness fell upon Gwynplaine. No possibility of concealment. It was too
late to fly. Moreover, he was no long