s, yes, I often wounded your feelings. I did not consider your
delicacy. There were misunderstandings between us. The reason was, we
have not the same temperament. And then, I did not know how to amuse
you. I did not know how to give you the amusement you need. I did
not procure for you the pleasures that a woman as intelligent as you
requires."

So simple and so true was he in his regrets and in his pain, she found
him worthy of sympathy. She said to him, softly:

"My friend, I never had reason to complain of you."

He continued:

"All I have said to you is true. I understood this when I was alone in
my boat. I have spent hours on it to which I would not condemn my worst
enemy. Often I felt like throwing myself into the water. I did not do
it. Was it because I have religious principles or family sentiments, or
because I have no courage? I do not know. The reason is, perhaps, that
from a distance you held me to life. I was attracted by you, since I am
here. For two days I have been watching you. I did not wish to reappear
at your house. I should not have found you alone; I should not have been
able to talk to you. And then you would have been forced to receive me.
I thought it better to speak to you in the street. The idea came to me
on the boat. I said to myself: 'In the street she will listen to me only
if she wishes, as she wished four years ago in the park of Joinville,
you know, under the statues, near the crown.'"

He continued, with a sigh:

"Yes, as at Joinville, since all is to be begun again. For two days
I have been watching you. Yesterday it was raining; you went out in a
carriage. I might have followed you and learned where you were going
if I wished to do it. I did not do it. I do not wish to do what would
displease you."

She extended her hand to him.

"I thank you. I knew I should not regret the trust I have placed in
you."

Alarmed, impatient, fearing what more he might say, she tried to escape
him.

"Farewell! You have all life before you. You should be happy. Appreciate
it, and do not torment yourself about things that are not worth the
trouble."

He stopped her with a look. His face had changed to the violent and
resolute expression which she knew.

"I have told you I must speak to you. Listen to me for a minute."

She was thinking of Jacques, who was waiting for her. An occasional
passer-by looked at her and went on his way. She stopped under the black
branches of a tree, and waite