trol ourselves. If we couldn't, remorse would
lose half its meaning. I could never feel remorse because I had been
mad--horror, perhaps, but not remorse. It seems to me that remorse is our
sorrow for our own weakness, the heart's cry of 'I need not have done the
hateful thing, and I did it, I chose to do it!' But I could pity, I could
pity, and forgive because of my pity."

Gaspare came out with coffee.

"And then, Emile, you must have a siesta," said Hermione. "This is a
tiring day for you. Maurice and I will leave you quite alone in the
sitting-room."

"I don't think I could sleep," said Artois.

He was feeling oddly excited, and attributed the sensation to his weak
state of health. For so long he had been shut up, isolated from the
world, that even this coming out was an event. He was accustomed to
examine his feelings calmly, critically, to track them to their sources.
He tried to do so now.

"I must beware of my own extra sensitiveness," he said to himself. "I'm
still weak. I am not normal. I may see things distorted. I may
exaggerate, turn the small into the great. At least half of what I think
and feel to-day may come from my peculiar state."

Thus he tried to raise up barriers against his feeling that Delarey had
got into some terrible trouble during the absence of Hermione, that he
was now stricken with remorse, and that he was also in active dread of
something, perhaps of some Nemesis.

"All this may be imagination," Artois thought, as he sipped his coffee.
But he said again:

"I don't think I could sleep. I feel abnormally alive to-day. Do you
know the sensation, as if one were too quick, as if all the nerves were
standing at attention?"

"Then our peace here does not soothe you?" Hermione said.

"If I must be truthful--no," he answered.

He met Maurice's restless glance.

"I think I've had enough coffee," he added. "Coffee stimulates the nerves
too much at certain times."

Maurice finished his and asked for another cup.

"He isn't afraid of being overstimulated," said Hermione. "But, Emile,
you ought to sleep. You'll be dead tired this evening when you ride
down."

"This evening," Hermione had said. Maurice wondered suddenly how late
Artois was going to stay at the cottage.

"Oh no, it will be cool," Artois said.

"Yes," Maurice said. "Towards five we get a little wind from the sea
nearly always, even sooner sometimes. I--I usually go down to bathe about
that time."

"I must begin to