ed quickly. She did not offer him her hand and whispered: "I have
only a few minutes. You must kneel near me that no one will notice us."

She proceeded to a side aisle after saluting the Host on the High
Altar, took a footstool, and kneeled down. Georges took one beside it
and when they were in the attitude of prayer, he said: "Thank you,
thank you. I adore you. I should like to tell you constantly how I
began to love you, how I was conquered the first time I saw you. Will
you permit me some day to unburden my heart, to explain all to you?"

She replied between her fingers: "I am mad to let you speak to me
thus--mad to have come hither--mad to do as I have done, to let you
believe that this--this adventure can have any results. Forget it, and
never speak to me of it again." She paused.

He replied: "I expect nothing--I hope nothing--I love you--whatever you
may do, I will repeat it so often, with so much force and ardor that
you will finally understand me, and reply: 'I love you too.'"

He felt her frame tremble as she involuntarily repeated: "I love you
too."

He was overcome by astonishment.

"Oh, my God!" she continued incoherently, "Should I say that to you? I
feel guilty, despicable--I--who have two daughters--but I
cannot--cannot--I never thought--it was stronger than
I--listen--listen--I have never loved--any other--but you--I swear
it--I have loved you a year in secret--I have suffered and struggled--I
can no longer; I love you." She wept and her bowed form was shaken by
the violence of her emotion.

Georges murmured: "Give me your hand that I may touch, may press it."

She slowly took her hand from her face, he seized it saying: "I should
like to drink your tears!"

Placing the hand he held upon his heart he asked: "Do you feel it beat?"

In a few moments the man Georges had noticed before passed by them.
When Mme. Walter heard him near her, she snatched her fingers from
Georges's clasp and covered her face with them. After the man had
disappeared, Du Roy asked, hoping for another place of meeting than La
Trinite: "Where shall I see you to-morrow?"

She did not reply; she seemed transformed into a statue of prayer. He
continued: "Shall I meet you to-morrow at Park Monceau?"

She turned a livid face toward him and said unsteadily: "Leave
me--leave me now--go--go away--for only five minutes--I suffer too much
near you. I want to pray--go. Let me pray alone--five minutes--let me
ask God--to pardon m