t seemed to be wafted to me
from a distance, it was like the lingering memory of a perfume; but now
I can't sleep for it, and it is so strong and penetrating that it quite
stupefies me. The alcove grows so hot, too, at night that I shall be
obliged to lie on the couch.'

Albine laid her fingers on her lips, and whispered, 'It is the dead
girl--she who once lived here.'

They sniffed the odorous air with forced gaiety, but in reality feeling
very troubled. Certainly never before had the room exhaled such a
disquieting aroma. The very walls seemed to be still echoing the faint
rustling of perfumed skirts; and the floor had retained the fragrance
of satin slippers dropped by the bedside, and near the head of the bed
itself Serge thought he could trace the imprint of a little hand, which
had left behind it a clinging scent of violets. Over all the furniture
the phantom presence of the dead girl still lingered fragrantly.

'See, this is the armchair where she used to sit,' cried Albine; 'there
is the scent of her shoulders at the back of it yet.'

She sat down in it herself, and bade Serge drop upon his knees and kiss
her hand.

'You remember the day when I first let you in and said, "Good morrow,
my dear lord!" But that wasn't all, was it? He kissed her hands when the
door was closed. There they are, my hands. They are yours.'

Then they tried to resume their old frolics in order that they might
forget the Paradou, whose joyous murmur they heard ever rising outside,
and that they might no longer think of the pictures nor yield to the
languor-breathing influence of the room. Albine put on an affected
manner, leant back in her chair, and finally laughed at the foolish
figure which Serge made at her feet.

'You stupid!' she said, 'take me round the waist, and say pretty things
to me, since you are supposed to be in love with me. Don't you know how
to make love then?'

But as soon as she felt him clasp her with eager impetuosity, she began
to struggle, and freed herself from his embrace.

'No, no; leave me alone. I can't bear it. I feel as though I were
choking in this room.'

From that day forward they felt the same kind of fear for the room as
they already felt for the garden. Their one remaining harbour of refuge
was now a place to be shunned and dreaded, a spot where they could no
longer find themselves together without watching each other furtively.
Albine now scarcely ventured to enter it, but remained near th