ken his accustomed armchair, and seated close beside her now
he smoothed the folds of her robe with his fingers as he told her of the
warm breath of tenderness that had passed through his heart that day.

The Countess listened, surprised, charmed, and gently laid her hand on
his white locks, which she caressed tenderly, as if to thank him.

"I should like so much to live always near you!" he sighed.

He was thinking of her husband, who had retired to rest, asleep, no
doubt, in some neighboring chamber, and he continued:

"It is undoubtedly true that marriage is the only thing that really
unites two lives."

"My poor friend!" she murmured, full of pity for him and also for
herself.

He had laid his cheek against the Countess's knees, and he looked up at
her with a tenderness touched with sadness, less ardently than a short
time before, when he had been separated from her by her daughter, her
husband, and Musadieu.

"Heavens! how white your hair has grown!" said the Countess with a
smile, running her fingers lightly over Olivier's head. "Your last black
hairs have disappeared."

"Alas! I know it. Everything goes so soon!"

She was concerned lest she had made him sad.

"Oh, but your hair turned gray very early, you know," she said. "I have
always known you with pepper-and-salt locks."

"Yes, that is true."

In order to dispel altogether the slight cloud of regret she had evoked,
she leaned over him and, taking his head between her hands, kissed him
slowly and tenderly on the forehead, with long kisses that seemed as if
they never would end. Then they gazed into each other's eyes, seeking
therein the reflection of their mutual fondness.

"I should like so much to pass a whole day with you," Bertin continued.
He felt himself tormented obscurely by an inexpressible necessity
for close intimacy. He had believed, only a short time ago, that the
departure of those who had been present would suffice to realize the
desire that had possessed him since morning; and now that he was alone
with his mistress, now that he felt on his brow the touch of her hands,
and, against his cheek, through the folds of her skirt, the warmth of
her body, he felt the same agitation reawakened, the same longing for
a love hitherto unknown and ever fleeing him. He now fancied that, away
from that house--perhaps in the woods where they would be absolutely
alone--this deep yearning of his heart would be calmed and satisfied.

"What a boy y