h he has struck, looks at her and
envelopes her with his tempting eyes, having regained his audacity,
attractive and dangerous in the last effort of his heart full of love,
of his entire being of youth and of flame made for tenderness.--Then,
for an uncertain minute, it seems as if the little convent had trembled;
it seems as if the white powers of the air recoiled, went out like
sad, unreal mists before this young dominator, come here to hurl the
triumphant appeal of life. And the silence which follows is the heaviest
of all the silent moments which have interrupted already that species of
drama played almost without words--

At last, Sister Mary Angelique talks, and talks to Ramuntcho himself.
Really it does not seem as if her heart had just been torn supremely
by the announcement of that departure, nor as if she had just shuddered
under that lover's look.--With a voice which little by little becomes
firmer in softness, she says very simple things, as to any friend.

"Oh, yes--Uncle Ignacio?--I had always thought that you would go to
rejoin him there.--We shall all pray the Holy Virgin to accompany you in
your voyage--"

And it is the smuggler who lowers the head, realizing that all is ended,
that she is lost forever, the little companion of his childhood; that
she has been buried in an inviolable shroud.--The words of love and of
temptation which he had thought of saying, the projects which he
had revolved in his mind for months, all these seemed insensate,
sacrilegious, impossible things, childish bravadoes.--Arrochkoa, who
looks at him attentively, is under the same irresistible and light
charm; they understand each other and, to one another, without words,
they confess that there is nothing to do, that they will never dare--

Nevertheless an anguish still human appears in the eyes of Sister Mary
Angelique when Arrochkoa rises for the definite departure: she prays,
in a changed voice, for them to stay a moment longer. And Ramuntcho
suddenly feels like throwing himself on his knees in front of her; his
head on the hem of her veil, sobbing all the tears that stifle him; like
begging for mercy, like begging for mercy also of that Mother Superior
who has so soft an air; like telling both of them that this sweetheart
of his childhood was his hope, his courage, his life, and that people
must have a little pity, people must give her back to him, because,
without her, there is no longer anything.--All that his heart con