in my soul. Now do you see that you have no reason to
be ashamed of that caress? Nature has asserted its claim, fate has had
its way; that's nothing of which mortals need be ashamed. But now the
will must assert its power, we must open our eyes and question whither
blind passion will lead us--say 'Halt!' to its further progress, and do
our duty, no matter what it costs us. Don't you think so too my brave
friend?"

He waited for her assent, for a glance which would tell him that she
agreed with him. But she was looking steadily at her clasped hands,
which rested quietly on her lap, and only after a long pause said as if
to herself:

"The game's unequal. However--_va banque!_"

"What do you mean, Toinette?" he replied. "Do you wish to imply, that I
shall return to what has hitherto formed my happiness, and find it as
before, and that you will remain on the verge of the abyss? But now
answer me one question--should I offer you my hand on the spot with the
intention even at the price of my self-respect to lead you out of this
house of gilded misery, do you believe that a man who had sacrificed
for you his most sacred possessions, his duty, the proud consciousness
of self-respect, the faith he had sworn to his better self in the
person of a high hearted woman--"

"Hush!" she hastily interrupted. "It's needless to say more. Your
admirably wise words torture me. Your talk of passion is but a form of
words. You reason, you moralize, you think of a future in which you may
repent of what you've done for me. But I, Oh! God--I've nothing but
this hour, no consciousness of what may come, or of what has been!
You're here with me, and the world beyond, all others beside ourselves,
everything which you call sin and fate and duty and remorse--I know
not. I am conscious only of this: that you're the only man on whose
breast my restless heart has tasted the bliss of one moment's
repose--never, never to taste it again, and he stands and
philosophizes, while I--am dying!"

Her eyes, which became gloomily fixed upon vacancy, suddenly overflowed
with tears, she convulsively pressed her hands to her face and burst
into uncontrollable sobs.

"Toinette!" he exclaimed, "by all the saints, you wrong me. I--if you
suspected what a superhuman battle I am fighting, what torture that
moment in which you tasted repose has conjured up for me--Toinette, be
merciful--spare me--let us help each other, instead of aiding each
other to be wretched. No