tains
that is infinitely good is exalted at present into an immense necessity
to implore, into an outbreak of supplicating prayer and also into a
confidence in the kindness, in the pity of others--

And who knows, if he had dared formulate that great prayer of pure
tenderness, who knows what he might have awakened of kindness also, and
of tenderness and of humanity in the poor, black-veiled girl?--Perhaps
this old Mother Superior herself, this old, dried-up girl with childish
smile and grave, pure eyes, would have opened her arms to him, as to a
son, understanding everything, forgiving everything, despite the rules
and despite the vows? And perhaps Gracieuse might have been returned
to him, without kidnapping, without deception, almost excused by her
companions of the cloister. Or at last, if that was impossible, she
would have bade him a long farewell, consoling, softened by a kiss of
immaterial love--

But no, he stays there mute on his chair. Even that prayer he cannot
make. And it is the hour to go, decidedly. Arrochkoa is up, agitated,
calling him with an imperious sign of the head. Then he straightens up
also his proud bust and takes his cap to follow Arrochkoa. They express
their thanks for the little supper which was given to them and they
say good-night, timidly. During their entire visit they were very
respectful, almost timid, the two superb smugglers. And, as if hope had
not just been undone, as if one of them was not leaving behind him his
life, they descend quietly the neat stairway, between the white walls,
while the good Sisters light the way with their little lamp.

"Come, Sister Mary Angelique," gaily proposes the Mother Superior, in
her frail, infantile voice, "we shall escort them to the end of our
avenue, you know, near the village."

Is she an old fairy, sure of her power, or a simple and unconscious
woman, playing without knowing it, with a great, devouring fire?--It was
all finished; the parting had been accomplished; the farewell accepted;
the struggle stifled under white wadding,--and now the two who adored
each other are walking side by side, outside, in the tepid night of
spring!--in the amorous, enveloping night, under the cover of the new
leaves and on the tall grass, among all the saps that ascend in the
midst of the sovereign growth of universal life.

They walk with short steps, through this exquisite obscurity, as in
silent accord, to make the shaded path last longer, both mute, in