food
and drink, we give it also unto thee; and when we give them flowers,
this crown of thorns that has wounded thy brow bursts into bloom. I will
give them flowers and bread. It is vain to say that thou art a jealous
God. Full as may be my heart, thou knowest that there is always room
for thee, and that thou never canst knock at the door without my crying:
'Enter; the house and all that therein is belong unto thee! My happiness
blesses thee: oh, bless thou it!'"

While Mlle. Moriaz thus held communion with her crucifix, Samuel Brohl
was rolling along the great highway from Cormeilles to Argenteuil,
a distance of six kilometres. His head was held erect, his face was
radiant, his eyes were like balls of fire, his temples throbbed, and it
seemed to him that his dilated chest might have held the world. He was
speaking to himself--murmuring over and over again the same phrase. "She
is mine!" he repeated to the vines bordering the road, to the mill of
Trouillet, to the Sannois Hills, whose vague outlines loomed up against
the sky. "She is mine!" he cried to the moon, which this evening shone
for him alone, whose sole occupation was to gaze upon Samuel Brohl. It
was plain to see that she was in the secret, that she knew that before
long Samuel Brohl would marry Mlle. Moriaz. She had donned her festal
garments to celebrate this marvellous adventure; her great gleaming face
expressed sympathy and joy.

Although he had exhorted his coachman to make haste, Samuel missed
the train, which was the last. He decided to put up for the night at
Argenteuil, and sought hospitality at the inn of the Coeur-Volant, where
he ordered served forthwith a great bowl of punch, his favourite drink.
He betook himself to bed in the full expectation of enjoying most
delicious dreams; but his sleep was troubled by a truly disagreeable
incident. Glorious days are at times succeeded by most wretched nights,
and the inn of Coeur-Volant was destined to leave most disagreeable
reminiscences with Samuel Brohl.

Towards four o'clock he heard some one knocking at his door, and a voice
not unknown to him cried:

"Open, I beseech you!"

He was seized with an insupportable anguish; he felt like one paralyzed,
and it was with great difficulty that he rose up in a sitting posture.
He remembered that the bolt was drawn, and this reassured him. What was
not his stupefied amazement to see the bolt glide back in its shaft! The
door opened; some one entered, slow