! I
contented myself with listening to the commonplace opinions which they
exchanged on politics. I soon have enough of it; I stop my ears. I too,
try to sleep; but that phrase which was spoken by the station-master of
the last station, "You will not get to Paris, the rails are torn up
at Mantes," returned in my dreams like an obstinate refrain. I open my
eyes. My neighbor wakes up, too; I do not wish to share my fears with
her; we talk in a low voice. She tells me that she is going to join her
mother at Sevres. "But," I say to her, "the train will scarcely enter
Paris before eleven o'clock to-night. You will never have time to reach
the landing on the left bank."

"What shall I do?" she says, "if my brother is not down at my arrival?"

Oh, misery, I am as dirty as a comb and my stomach burns! I can not
dream of taking her to my bachelor lodgings, and then I wish before all
to see my mother. What to do? I look at Reine with distress. I take
her hand; at that moment the train takes a curve, the jerk throws her
forward; our lips approach, they touch, I press mine; she turns red.
Good heavens, her mouth moves imperceptibly; she returns my kiss; a long
thrill runs up my spine; at contact of those ardent embers my senses
fail. Oh! Sister Angele, Sister Angele! a man can not make himself over!
And the train roars and rolls onward, without slackening speed; we are
flying under full steam toward Mantes; my fears are vain; the track is
clear. Reine half shuts her eyes; her head falls on my shoulder; her
little waves of hair tangle with my beard and tickle my lips. I put my
arm about her waist, which yields, and I rock her. Paris is not far; we
pass the freight-depots, by the roundhouses where the engines roar in
red vapor, getting up steam; the train stops; they take up the tickets.
After reflection, I will take Reine to my bachelor rooms, provided her
brother is not waiting her arrival. We descend from the carriage; her
brother is there. "In five days," she says, with a kiss, and the pretty
bird has flown. Five days after I was in my bed, atrociously sick, and
the Prussians occupy Sevres. Never since then have I seen her.

My heart is heavy. I heave a deep sigh; this is not, however, the time
to be sad! I am jolting on in a fiacre. I recognize the neighborhood; I
arrive before my mother's house; I dash up the steps, four at a time. I
pull the bell violently; the maid opens the door. "It's Monsieur!"
and she runs to tell my mo