s, the appearances that
caress and flatter. I had the joy of seeing and of dreaming. I enjoyed
everything and depended upon nothing. My desires, abundant and light, I
gratified without fatigue. I was interested in everything and wished for
nothing. One suffers only through the will. Without knowing it, I was
happy. Oh, it was not much, it was only enough to live. Now I have no
joy in life. My pleasures, the interest that I took in the images of
life and of art, the vivid amusement of creating with my hands the
figures of my dreams--you have made me lose everything and have not
left me even regret. I do not want my liberty and tranquillity again. It
seems to me that before I knew you I did not live; and now that I feel
that I am living, I can not live either far from you or near you. I am
more wretched than the beggars we saw on the road to Ema. They had air
to breathe, and I can breathe only you, whom I have not. Yet I am glad
to have known you. That alone counts in my existence. A moment ago I
thought I hated you. I was wrong; I adore you, and I bless you for the
harm you have done me. I love all that comes to me from you."

They were nearing the black trees at the entrance to San Niccola bridge.
On the other side of the river the vague fields displayed their sadness,
intensified by night. Seeing that he was calm and full of a soft
languor, she thought that his love, all imagination, had fled in words,
and that his desires had become only a reverie. She had not expected so
prompt a resignation. It almost disappointed her to escape the danger
she had feared.

She extended her hand to him, more boldly this time than before.

"Then, let us be friends. It is late. Let us return. Take me to my
carriage. I shall be what I have been to you, an excellent friend. You
have not displeased me."

But he led her to the fields, in the growing solitude of the shore.

"No, I will not let you go without having told you what I wish to say.
But I know no longer how to speak; I can not find the words. I love you.
I wish to know that you are mine. I swear to you that I will not live
another night in the horror of doubting it."

He pressed her in his arms; and seeking the light of her eyes through
the obscurity of her veil, said "You must love me. I desire you to love
me, and it is your fault, for you have desired it too. Say that you are
mine. Say it."

Having gently disengaged herself, she replied, faintly and slowly "I can
not! I