ng me? Raise
your head and answer me. Do you not see that I suffer and that my nights
are given to weeping? Have you not met in the forest an unfortunate
wretch sitting in solitary dejection with his hands pressed to his
forehead? Have you not seen tears on these bushes? Look at me, look at
these mountains; do you realize that I love you? They know it, they are
my witnesses; these rocks and these trees know my secret. Why lead me
before them? Am I not wretched enough? Do I fail in courage? Have I
obeyed you? To what tests, what tortures am I subjected, and for what
crime? If you do not love me, what are you doing here?"

"Let us return," she said, "let us retrace our steps."

I seized her horse's bridle.

"No," I replied, "for I have spoken. If we return, I lose you, I realize
it; I know in advance what you will say. You have been pleased to try
my patience, you have set my sorrow at defiance, perhaps that you might
have the right to drive me from your presence; you have become tired of
that sorrowful lover who suffered without complaint and who drank with
resignation the bitter chalice of your disdain! You knew that, alone
with you in the presence of these trees, in the midst of this solitude
where my love had its birth, I could not be silent! You wish to
be offended. Very well, Madame, I lose you! I have wept and I have
suffered, I have too long nourished in my heart a pitiless love that
devours me. You have been cruel!"

As she was about to leap from her saddle, I seized her in my arms and
pressed my lips to hers. She turned pale, her eyes closed, her bridle
slipped from her hand and she fell to the ground.

"God be praised!" I cried, "she loves me!" She had returned my kiss.

I leaped to the ground and hastened to her side. She was extended on the
ground. I raised her, she opened her eyes, and shuddered with terror;
she pushed my arm aside, and burst into tears.

I stood near the roadside; I looked at her as she leaned against a tree,
as beautiful as the day, her long hair falling over her shoulders, her
hands twitching and trembling, her cheeks suffused with crimson, whereon
shone pearly tears.

"Do not come near me!" she cried, "not a step!"

"Oh, my love!" I said, "fear nothing; if I have offended you, you know
how to punish me. I was angry and I gave way to my grief; treat me as
you choose; you may go away now, you may send me away! I know that you
love me, Brigitte, and you are safer here than a king