boat drifting with
the stream, they watched the final gleams of light quitting the tall
branches. They approached the islands. The great russety masses grew
sombre; all the landscape became simplified in the twilight; the Seine,
the sky, the islands, the slopes were naught but brown and grey patches
which faded away amidst milky fog.

Camille, who had ended by lying down on his stomach, with his head over
the water, dipped his hands in the river.

"The deuce! How cold it is!" he exclaimed. "It would not be pleasant to
go in there head foremost."

Laurent did not answer. For an instant he had been observing the two
banks of the river with uneasiness. He advanced his huge hands to his
knees, tightly compressing his lips. Therese, rigid and motionless, with
her head thrown slightly backward, waited.

The skiff was about to enter a small arm of the river, that was sombre
and narrow, penetrating between two islands. Behind one of these islands
could be distinguished the softened melody of a boating party who seemed
to be ascending the Seine. Up the river in the distance, the water was
free.

Then Laurent rose and grasped Camille round the body. The clerk burst
into laughter.

"Ah, no, you tickle me," said he, "none of those jokes. Look here, stop;
you'll make me fall over."

Laurent grasped him tighter, and gave a jerk. Camille turning round,
perceived the terrifying face of his friend, violently agitated. He
failed to understand. He was seized with vague terror. He wanted to
shout, and felt a rough hand seize him by the throat. With the instinct
of an animal on the defensive, he rose to his knees, clutching the side
of the boat, and struggled for a few seconds.

"Therese! Therese!" he called in a stifling, sibilant voice.

The young woman looked at him, clinging with both hands to the seat. The
skiff creaked and danced upon the river. She could not close her eyes,
a frightful contraction kept them wide open riveted on the hideous
struggle. She remained rigid and mute.

"Therese! Therese!" again cried the unfortunate man who was in the
throes of death.

At this final appeal, Therese burst into sobs. Her nerves had given way.
The attack she had been dreading, cast her to the bottom of the boat,
where she remained doubled up in a swoon, and as if dead.

Laurent continued tugging at Camille, pressing with one hand on his
throat. With the other hand he ended by tearing his victim away from
the side of the skiff,