e hill that I have
been climbing for the past year. When one stands before a fresh
grave, over which are engraved two cherished names, one experiences
a mysterious sense of grief, which causes tears to trickle down one's
cheeks; it is thus that I wish to remember having once lived."

At these words the woman threw herself on the couch and burst into
tears. The young man wept with her, but he did not move and seemed
anxious to appear unconscious of her emotion. When her tears ceased to
flow, he approached her, took her hand in his and kissed it.

"Believe me," said he, "to be loved by you, whatever the name of the
place I occupy in your heart, will give me strength and courage. Rest
assured, Brigitte, no one will ever understand you better than I;
another will love you more worthily, no one will love you more truly.
Another will be considerate of those feelings that I offend, he will
surround you with his love; you will have a better lover, you will not
have a better brother. Give me your hand and let the world laugh at
a sentence that it does not understand: Let us be friends, and part
forever. Before we became such intimate friends there was something
within that told us we were destined to mingle our lives. Let our souls
never know that we have parted upon earth; let not the paltry chance of
a moment undo our eternal happiness!"

He held the woman's hand; she arose, tears streaming from her eyes, and,
stepping up to the mirror with a strange smile on her face, she cut
from her head a long tress of hair; then she looked at herself thus
disfigured and deprived of a part of her beautiful crown, and gave it to
her lover.

The clock struck again; it was time to go; when they passed out they
seemed as joyful as when they entered.

"What a beautiful sun!" said the young man.

"And a beautiful day," said Brigitte, "the memory of which shall never
fade."

They hastened away and disappeared in the crowd.

Some time later a carriage passed over a little hill behind
Fontainebleau. The young man was the only occupant; he looked for the
last time upon his native town as it disappeared in the distance, and
thanked God that, of the three beings who had suffered through his
fault, there remained but one of them still unhappy.

ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

A terrible danger lurks in the knowledge of what is possible
Accustomed to call its disguise virtue
Adieu, my son, I love you and I die
All phi