te colourless; and from under her closed lids tears
were stealing. He threw his arms round her neck and kissed her eyes,
slowly, with long heart-broken kisses, wet with her tears; and he said
again and again:

"Mother, my dear mother, I know it is not true. Do not cry; I know it.
It is not true."

She raised herself, she sat up, looked in his face, and with an effort
of courage such as it must cost in some cases to kill one's self, she
said:

"No, my child; it is true."

And they remained speechless, each in the presence of the other. For
some minutes she seemed again to be suffocating, craning her throat
and throwing back her head to get breath; then she once more mastered
herself and went on:

"It is true, my child. Why lie about it? It is true. You would not
believe me if I denied it."

She looked like a crazy creature. Overcome by alarm, he fell on his
knees by the bedside, murmuring:

"Hush, mother, be silent." She stood up with terrible determination and
energy.

"I have nothing more to say, my child. Good-bye." And she went towards
the door.

He threw his arms about her exclaiming:

"What are you doing, mother; where are you going?"

"I do not know. How should I know--There is nothing left for me to do,
now that I am alone."

She struggled to be released. Holding her firmly, he could find only
words to say again and again:

"Mother, mother, mother!" And through all her efforts to free herself
she was saying:

"No, no. I am not your mother now, poor boy--good-bye."

It struck him clearly that if he let her go now he should never see her
again; lifting her up in his arms he carried her to an arm-chair, forced
her into it, and kneeling down in front of her barred her in with his
arms.

"You shall not quit this spot, mother. I love you and I will keep you! I
will keep you always--I love you and you are mine."

She murmured in a dejected tone:

"No, my poor boy, it is impossible. You weep to-night, but to-morrow you
would turn me out of the house. You, even you, could not forgive me."

He replied: "I? I? How little you know me!" with such a burst of genuine
affection that, with a cry, she seized his head by the hair with both
hands, and dragging him violently to her kissed him distractedly all
over his face.

Then she sat still, her cheek against his, feeling the warmth of his
skin through his beard, and she whispered in his ear: "No, my little
Jean, you would not forgive me to-morrow. You