sank down
by her side.

'Ah! do you remember,' he said, 'that wall which seemed to have grown up
between us? Now there is nothing to keep us apart--you are not unhappy
now?'

'No, no,' she answered; 'very happy.'

For a moment they relapsed into silence whilst soft emotion stole over
them. Then Serge, caressing Albine, exclaimed: 'Your face is mine; your
eyes, your mouth, your cheeks are mine. Your arms are mine, from your
shoulders to the tips of your nails. You are wholly mine.' And as he
spoke he kissed her lips, her eyes, her cheeks. He kissed her arms, with
quick short kisses, from her fingers to her shoulders. He poured upon
her a rain of kisses hot as a summer shower, deluging her cheeks, her
forehead, her lips, and her neck.

'But if you are mine, I am yours,' said he; 'yours for ever; for I now
well know that you are my queen, my sovereign, whom I must worship
on bended knee. I am here only to obey you, to lie at your feet, to
anticipate your wishes, to shelter you with my arms, to drive away
whatever might trouble your tranquillity. And you are my life's goal.
Since I first awoke in this garden, you have ever been before me; I have
grown up that I might be yours. Ever, as my end, my reward, have I
gazed upon your grace. You passed in the sunshine with the sheen of
your golden hair; you were a promise that I should some day know all the
mysteries and necessities of creation, of this earth, of these trees,
these waters, these skies, whose last secret is yet unrevealed. I belong
to you; I am your slave; I will listen to you and obey you, with my lips
upon your feet.'

He said this, bowed to the ground, adoring Woman. And Albine, full of
pride, allowed herself to be adored. She yielded her hands, her cheeks,
her lips, to Serge's rapturous kisses. She felt herself indeed a queen
as she saw him, who was so strong, bending so humbly before her. She had
conquered him, and held him there at her mercy. With a single word
she could dispose of him. And that which helped her to recognise
her omnipotence was that she heard the whole garden rejoicing at her
triumph, with gradually swelling paeans of approval.

'Ah! if we could fly off together, if we could but die even, in one
another's arms,' faltered Serge, scarce able to articulate. But Albine
had strength enough to raise her finger as though to bid him listen.

It was the garden that had planned and willed it all. For weeks and
weeks it had been favouring and en