without hope, in order to be watched and wept for by you, like those
children--and to be embalmed in your tears; and to see you bowed down
in terror before me is horrible to me! By the name of your God, whom
you have made me respect, I swear you are sacred to me--the child in the
arms of its mother is not more so!"

"I have no fear," she murmured.

"Oh, no!--have no fear!" he repeated in a tone of voice infinitely
softened and tender. "It is I who am afraid--it is I who tremble--you
see it; for since I have spoken, all is finished. I expect nothing
more--I hope for nothing--this night has no possible tomorrow. I know
it. Your husband I dare not be--your lover I should not wish to be. I
ask nothing of you--understand well! I should like to burn my heart at
your feet, as on an altar--this is all. Do you believe me? Answer! Are
you tranquil? Are you confident? Will you hear me? May I tell you what
image I carry of you in the secret recesses of my heart? Dear creature
that you are, you do not--ah, you do not know how great is your worth;
and I fear to tell you; so much am I afraid of stripping you of your
charms, or of one of your virtues. If you had been proud of yourself, as
you have a right to be, you would be less perfect, and I should love you
less. But I wish to tell you how lovable and how charming you are. You
alone do not know it. You alone do not see the soft flame of your large
eyes--the reflection of your heroic soul on your young but serene brow.
Your charm is over everything you do--your slightest gesture is engraven
on my heart. Into the most ordinary duties of every-day life you carry a
peculiar grace, like a young priestess who recites her daily devotions.
Your hand, your touch, your breath purifies everything--even the most
humble and the most wicked beings--and myself first of all!

"I am astonished at the words which I dare to pronounce, and the
sentiments which animate me, to whom you have made clear new truths.
Yes, all the rhapsodies of the poets, all the loves of the martyrs, I
comprehend in your presence. This is truth itself. I understand those
who died for their faith by the torture--because I should like to suffer
for you--because I believe in you--because I respect you--I cherish
you--I adore you!"

He stopped, shivering, and half prostrating himself before her, seized
the end of her veil and kissed it.

"Now," he continued, with a kind of grave sadness, "go, Madame, I have
forgotten too l