to me about him in a serious tone, I no longer understood them, and I
imagined they took this subject as a sort of text whereon to build a
parable proving to me the advantages of education, the necessity of
devoting myself to study early in life, and the futility of regrets in
after years.

Yet this did not prevent me from prowling about the copses about his new
abode, for I had seen Edmee crossing the park in that direction, and I
hoped that if I took her by surprise as she was returning, I should get
a conversation with her. But she was always accompanied by the abbe,
and sometimes even by her father, and if she remained alone with the
old peasant, he would escort her to the chateau afterwards. Frequently
I have concealed myself in the foliage of a giant yew-tree, which spread
out its monstrous shoots and drooping branches to within a few yards of
the cottage, and have seen Edmee sitting at the door with a book in her
hand while Patience was listening with his arms folded and his head sunk
on his breast, as though he were overwhelmed by the effort of attention.
At that time I imagined that Edmee was trying to teach him to read, and
thought her mad to persist in attempting an impossible education. But
how beautiful she seemed in the light of the setting sun, beneath the
yellowing vine leaves that overhung the cottage door! I used to gaze on
her and tell myself that she belonged to me, and vow never to yield to
any force or persuasion which should endeavour to make me renounce my
claim.

For some days my agony of mind had been intense. My only method of
escaping from it had been to drink heavily at supper, so that I might be
almost stupefied at the hour, for me so painful and so galling, when she
would leave the drawing-room after kissing her father, giving her
hand to M. de la Marche, and saying as she passed by me, "Good-night,
Bernard," in a tone which seemed to say, "To-day has ended like
yesterday, and to-morrow will end like to-day."

In vain would I go and sit in the arm-chair nearest her door, so that
she could not pass without at least her dress brushing against me; this
was all I ever got from her. I would not put out my hand to beg her
own, for she might have given it with an air of unconcern, and I verily
believe I should have crushed it in my anger.

Thanks to my large libations at supper, I generally succeeded in
besotting myself, silently and sadly. I then used to sink into my
favourite arm-chair an