er, to lead her. He only
succeeded in bringing on an attack of "nerves" that lasted some time and
caused her to shriek.

The doctor when he came in the evening was told of this cowardice and
declared that he would bring her in himself, of her own volition, or by
force. But after trying all manner of argument and just as he seized her
round the waist to carry her into her son's room, she caught hold of the
door and clung to it so firmly that they could not drag her away. Then
when they let go of her she fell at the feet of the doctor, begging his
forgiveness and acknowledging that she was a wretched creature. And then
she exclaimed: "Oh, he is not going to die; tell me that he is not going
to die, I beg of you; tell him that I love him, that I worship him..."

The young lad was dying. Feeling that he had only a few moments more to
live, he entreated that his mother be persuaded to come and bid him a
last farewell. With that sort of presentiment that the dying sometimes
have, he had understood, had guessed all, and he said: "If she is afraid
to come into the room, beg her just to come on the balcony as far as my
window so that I may see her, at least, so that I may take a farewell
look at her, as I cannot kiss her."

The doctor and the abbe, once more, went together to this woman and
assured her: "You will run no risk, for there will be a pane of glass
between you and him."

She consented, covered up her head, and took with her a bottle of
smelling salts. She took three steps on the balcony; then, all at once,
hiding her face in her hands, she moaned: "No... no... I would never
dare to look at him... never.... I am too much ashamed... too much
afraid.... No... I cannot."

They endeavored to drag her along, but she held on with both hands to
the railings and uttered such plaints that the passers-by in the street
raised their heads. And the dying boy waited, his eyes turned towards
that window, waited to die until he could see for the last time the
sweet, beloved face, the worshiped face of his mother.

He waited long, and night came on. Then he turned over with his face to
the wall and was silent.

When day broke he was dead. The day following she was crazy.

THE MAGIC COUCH

The Seine flowed past my house, without a ripple on its surface, and
gleaming in the bright morning sunlight. It was a beautiful, broad,
indolent silver stream, with crimson lights here and there; and on the
opposite side of the river