“Ah,” said Sidonie, pathetically, “I should not ask for more.” “You--you! Perhaps not. But, don’t you see, with her it is different. She is not a peasant by birth or education.” Sidonie suffered keenly. Each word of Bruno’s stabbed her tender heart. She felt that she must leave him. She longed to be alone. And yet something held her rooted to the spot. All that Bruno had said in regard to Catherine was but kindred to the feeling the lame girl possessed for him. “Oh,” continued Bruno, “could you but know what it is to love as I do! It is a fever which consumes one! It is torture! Catherine! Catherine! What would I not do for you? For you I would confront a hundred dangers; for you I would lay down my life; for you----” “Be silent!” shouted Sidonie, beside herself. “Who,” he went on, not heeding her command, “can compare with her in loveliness? Who is her equal? I would defend her against her husband! I could kill Firmin did I not know her indifference to him. If at this moment she were to say, ‘Lie at my feet until you die of love,’ I should eagerly obey.” Unable at this moment to control herself, Sidonie seized his hands, and covering them with passionate kisses, exclaimed: “And I adore you--even as you adore her.” And turning away she disappeared, leaving Bruno utterly stupefied. When at last he realized the situation, he was overpowered. His words must have seemed so cruel to her. “Oh, how miserable it all is! Poor, poor Sidonie! How I must have wounded her loyal heart. Oh, why--why could I not have loved her instead of Catherine? We might have been so happy! and now only misery awaits us.” [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XI. TEMPTATION. Bruno possessed an ardent poetic nature. In his boyhood he was a day-dreamer. While his village comrades ravaged birds’ nests, played at leap-frog, and in other ways distinguished themselves for mischief, he was wandering alone by the river lost in revery. With his feet buried in the cool ripples, he loved to watch the water and study the habits of the finny tribes as they played about him. He knew where the trout made a home under the rocks, and in the cool summer evenings, with his legs bared to the thigh, he would surprise them in their hiding-places and then a wild chase would follow. How many times would his hand close over some little creature, only to find the next moment that it had slipped from his fingers and escaped among the pebbles. As he grew into a tall, graceful boy of fifteen, however, he began to think how he could best serve Mother Mathurine, and with a good will he went to work. But most of his leisure time was devoted to trout-fishing and he became an expert angler. Many a fine string of trout bore witness to his skill, and the people of the village looked to him for a supply when a present of that nature was to be made for a _fête_ or a social party.