I cannot bear it, no, I cannot bear it. I am willing to be
nothing but an old woman for you. I have made my hair white to show you
so, but come here, only come here from time to time as a friend."

She had taken his hand and was squeezing it, crushing it, burying her
nails in his flesh.

He answered, quietly: "It is understood, then. It is useless to speak of
all that again. You see I came to-day at once on receiving your letter."

Walter, who had walked on in advance with his two daughters and
Madeleine, was waiting for Du Roy beside the picture of "Jesus Walking
on the Waters."

"Fancy," said he, laughing, "I found my wife yesterday on her knees
before this picture, as if in a chapel. She was paying her devotions.
How I did laugh."

Madame Walter replied in a firm voice--a voice thrilling with secret
exultation: "It is that Christ who will save my soul. He gives me
strength and courage every time I look at Him." And pausing in front of
the Divinity standing amidst the waters, she murmured: "How handsome he
is. How afraid of Him those men are, and yet how they love Him. Look at
His head, His eyes--how simple yet how supernatural at the same time."

Susan exclaimed, "But He resembles you, Pretty-boy. I am sure He
resembles you. If you had a beard, or if He was clean shaven, you would
be both alike. Oh, but it is striking!"

She insisted on his standing beside the picture, and they all, indeed,
recognized that the two faces resembled one another. Everyone was
astonished. Walter thought it very singular. Madeleine, smiling,
declared that Jesus had a more manly air. Madame Walter stood
motionless, gazing fixedly at the face of her lover beside the face of
Christ, and had become as white as her hair.

XVI

During the remainder of the winter the Du Roys often visited the
Walters. George even dined there by himself continually, Madeleine
saying she was tired, and preferring to remain at home. He had adopted
Friday as a fixed day, and Madame Walter never invited anyone that
evening; it belonged to Pretty-boy, to him alone. After dinner they
played cards, and fed the goldfish, amusing themselves like a family
circle. Several times behind a door or a clump of shrubs in the
conservatory, Madame Walter had suddenly clasped George in her arms, and
pressing him with all her strength to her breast, had whispered in his
ear, "I love you, I love you till it is killing me." But he had always
coldly repulsed her, repl