fond of--with
flour, butter and milk. Oh, I know how to make them. I could make them
still, if necessary. He would swallow them at one mouthful and wash them
down with a glass of wine, saying: 'Delicious!' Do you remember the way
he said it?

"I was jealous--jealous! Your wedding day was drawing near. It was only
a fortnight distant. I was distracted. I said to myself: 'He shall not
marry Suzanne--no, he shall not! He shall marry me when I am old enough!
I shall never love any one half so much.' But one evening, ten days
before the wedding, you went for a stroll with him in the moonlight
before the house--and yonder--under the pine tree, the big pine tree--he
kissed you--kissed you--and held you in his arms so long--so long! You
remember, don't you? It was probably the first time. You were so pale
when you came back to the drawing-room!

"I saw you. I was there in the shrubbery. I was mad with rage! I would
have killed you both if I could!

"I said to myself: 'He shall never marry Suzanne--never! He shall
marry no one! I could not bear it.' And all at once I began to hate him
intensely.

"Then do you know what I did? Listen. I had seen the gardener prepare
pellets for killing stray dogs. He would crush a bottle into small
pieces with a stone and put the ground glass into a ball of meat.

"I stole a small medicine bottle from mother's room. I ground it fine
with a hammer and hid the glass in my pocket. It was a glistening
powder. The next day, when you had made your little cakes; I opened them
with a knife and inserted the glass. He ate three. I ate one myself. I
threw the six others into the pond. The two swans died three days later.
You remember? Oh, don't speak! Listen, listen. I, I alone did not die.
But I have always been ill. Listen--he died--you know--listen--that
was not the worst. It was afterward, later--always--the most
terrible--listen.

"My life, all my life--such torture! I said to myself: 'I will never
leave my sister. And on my deathbed I will tell her all.' And now I
have told. And I have always thought of this moment--the moment when all
would be told. Now it has come. It is terrible--oh!--sister--

"I have always thought, morning and evening, day and night: 'I shall
have to tell her some day!' I waited. The horror of it! It is done. Say
nothing. Now I am afraid--I am afraid! Oh! Supposing I should see him
again, by and by, when I am dead! See him again! Only to think of it!
I dare not--yet I m