‘Yes, yes,’ he murmured, answering his own thoughts only; ‘my great pleasure at first was to light the candles, prepare the cruets, and carry the missal. Then, afterwards, I was filled with bliss at the approach of God, and felt as though I could die of sheer love. Those are my only recollections. I know of nothing else. When I raise my hand, it is to give a benediction. When my lips protrude it is to kiss the altar. If I look for my heart, I can no longer find it. I have offered it to God, and He has taken it.’ Albine grew very pale and her eyes gleamed like fire. In a quivering voice she resumed: ‘I should not like my little girl to leave me. You can send the boy to college, if you wish, but the little girl must always keep with me. I myself will teach her to read. Oh! I shall remember everything, and if indeed there be anything that I find I have forgotten, I will have masters to teach me.... Yes, we will keep our dear little ones always about our knees. You will be happy so, won’t you? Speak to me; tell me that you will then feel warm again, and will smile, and feel no regrets for anything you have left behind.’ But Serge continued: ‘I have often thought of the stone-saints that have been censed in their niches for centuries past. They must have become quite saturated with incense; and I am like one of them. I have the fragrance of incense in the inmost parts of my being. It is that embalmment that gives me serenity, deathlike tranquillity of body, and the peace which I enjoy in no longer living.... Ah! may nothing ever disturb my quiescence! May I ever remain cold and rigid, with a ceaseless smile on my granite lips, incapable of descending among men! That is my one, my only desire!’ At this Albine sprang to her feet, exasperated, threatening. She shook Serge and cried: ‘What are you saying? What is it you are dreaming aloud? Am I not your wife? Haven’t you come here to be my husband?’ He recoiled, trembling yet more violently. ‘No! Leave me! I am afraid!’ he faltered. ‘But our life together, our happiness, the children we shall have?’ ‘No, no; I am afraid.’ And he broke out into a supreme cry: ‘I cannot! I cannot!’ For a moment Albine remained silent, gazing at the unhappy man who lay shivering at her feet. Her face flared. She opened her arms as if to seize him and strain him to her breast with wild angry passion. But another idea came to her, and she merely took him by the hand and raised him to his feet. ‘Come!’ said she.