ion that Marie feels for me," said
Guillaume, "as it is you whom she really loves, am I to take a mean
advantage of the engagements which she entered into unconsciously, and
force her to a marriage when I know that she would never be wholly mine?
Besides, I have made a mistake, it isn't I who give her to you, she has
already given herself, and I do not consider that I have any right to
prevent her from doing so."

"No, no! I will never accept, I will never bring such grief upon you...
Kiss me, brother, and let me go."

Thereupon Guillaume caught hold of Pierre and compelled him to sit down
by his side on an old sofa near the window. And he began to scold him
almost angrily while still retaining a smile, in which suffering and
kindliness were blended. "Come," said he, "we are surely not going to
fight over it. You won't force me to tie you up so as to keep you here? I
know what I'm about. I thought it all over before I spoke to you. No
doubt, I can't tell you that it gladdens me. I thought at first that I
was going to die; I should have liked to hide myself in the very depths
of the earth. And then, well, it was necessary to be reasonable, and I
understood that things had arranged themselves for the best, in their
natural order."

Pierre, unable to resist any further, had begun to weep with both hands
raised to his face.

"Don't grieve, brother, either for yourself or for me," said Guillaume.
"Do you remember the happy days we lately spent together at Neuilly after
we had found one another again? All our old affection revived within us,
and we remained for hours, hand in hand, recalling the past and loving
one another. And what a terrible confession you made to me one night, the
confession of your loss of faith, your torture, the void in which you
were rolling! When I heard of it my one great wish was to cure you. I
advised you to work, love, and believe in life, convinced as I was that
life alone could restore you to peace and health.... And for that
reason I afterwards brought you here. You fought against it, and it was I
who forced you to come. I was so happy when I found that you again took
an interest in life, and had once more become a man and a worker! I would
have given some of my blood if necessary to complete your cure....
Well, it's done now, I have given you all I had, since Marie herself has
become necessary to you, and she alone can save you."

Then as Pierre again attempted to protest, he resumed: "Do