bedroom, where he had seen her on the night of her illness, and there he
laid his head on the pillow where hers had lain.

"I am committing follies," he said, grasping Camille's hand, and bidding
her good-night in deep dejection.

He returned home, found the usual company at _mouche_, and passed the
remainder of the evening sitting beside his mother. The rector, the
Chevalier du Halga, and Mademoiselle de Pen-Hoel all knew of Madame
de Rochefide's departure, and were rejoicing in it. Calyste would now
return to them; and all three watched him cautiously. No one in that
old manor-house was capable of imagining the result of a first love, the
love of youth in a heart so simple and so true as that of Calyste.

XVI. SICKNESS UNTO DEATH

For several days Calyste went regularly to Les Touches. He paced round
and round the lawn, where he had sometimes walked with Beatrix on his
arm. He often went to Croisic to stand upon that fateful rock, or lie
for hours in the bush of box; for, by studying the footholds on the
sides of the fissure, he had found a means of getting up and down.

These solitary trips, his silence, his gravity, made his mother very
anxious. After about two weeks, during which time this conduct, like
that of a caged animal, lasted, this poor lover, caged in his despair,
ceased to cross the bay; he had scarcely strength to drag himself along
the road from Guerande to the spot where he had seen Beatrix watching
from her window. The family, delighted at the departure of "those
Parisians," to use a term of the provinces, saw nothing fatal or
diseased about the lad. The two old maids and the rector, pursuing their
scheme, had kept Charlotte de Kergarouet, who nightly played off her
little coquetries on Calyste, obtaining in return nothing better than
advice in playing _mouche_. During these long evenings, Calyste sat
between his mother and the little Breton girl, observed by the rector
and Charlotte's aunt, who discussed his greater or less depression as
they walked home together. Their simple minds mistook the lethargic
indifference of the hapless youth for submission to their plans. One
evening when Calyste, wearied out, went off suddenly to bed, the players
dropped their cards upon the table and looked at each other as the young
man closed the door of his chamber. One and all had listened to the
sound of his receding steps with anxiety.

"Something is the matter with Calyste," said the baroness, wipin