her face in her hands, and pressed her
fingers to her eyelids as though to intensify the darkness in which
she sought to plunge. It was a wish to annihilate herself, to see no
more, to be utterly alone, girt in by the gloom of night. Her
breathing grew calmer. Paris blew its mighty breath upon her face; she
knew it lay before her, and though she had no wish to look on it, she
felt full of terror at the thought of leaving the window, and of no
longer having beneath her that city whose vastness lulled her to rest.

Ere long she grew unmindful of all around her. The love-scene and
confession, despite her efforts, again woke to life in her mind. In
the inky darkness Henri appeared to her, every feature so distinct and
vivid that she could perceive the nervous twitching of his lips. He
came nearer and hung over her. And then she wildly darted back. But,
nevertheless, she felt a burning breath on her shoulders and a voice
exclaimed: "I love you! I love you!" With a mighty effort she put the
phantom to flight, but it again took shape in the distance, and slowly
swelled to its whilom proportions; it was Henri once more following
her into the dining-room, and still murmuring: "I love you! I love
you!" These words rang within her breast with the sonorous clang of a
bell; she no longer heard anything but them, pealing their loudest
throughout her frame. Nevertheless, she desired to reflect, and again
strove to escape from the apparition. He had spoken; never would she
dare to look on his face again. The brutal passion of the man had
tainted the tenderness of their love. She conjured up past hours, in
which he had loved her without being so cruel as to say it; hours
spent in the garden amidst the tranquillity of the budding springtime
God! he had spoken--the thought clung to her so stubbornly, lowered on
her in such immensity and with such weight, that the instant
destruction of Paris by a thunderbolt before her eyes would have
seemed a trivial matter. Her heart was rent by feelings of indignant
protest and haughty anger, commingling with a secret and unconquerable
pleasure, which ascended from her inner being and bereft her of her
senses. He had spoken, and was speaking still, he sprang up
unceasingly before her, uttering those passionate words: "I love you!
I love you!"--words that swept into oblivion all her past life as wife
and mother.

In spite of her brooding over this vision, she retained some
consciousness of the vast ex