Gerfaut was almost frightened by the agonized accent in which she spoke these words; he released her, but as he removed his arms, she reeled and he was obliged to support her. “Why do you persecute me, then?” she murmured, as she fell in a faint upon her lover’s breast. He picked her up in his arms and mounted the narrow stairs with difficulty. Carrying her into the parlor, he placed her upon the divan. She had completely lost consciousness; one would have believed her dead from the pallor of her face, were, it not for a slight trembling which agitated her form every few seconds and announced a nervous attack. The most expert of lady’s maids could not have removed the little ribbon from her neck, which seemed to trouble her respiration, more adroitly than did Octave. In spite of his anxiety, he could not repress a smile as he recognized the pin which he hardly expected to find upon Clemence’s neck, considering the hostile way in which she had greeted him. He knelt before her and bathed her temples with cold water, making her also inhale some salts which he found upon the toilet table in the next room. Little by little, these attentions produced an effect; the nervous convulsion became less frequent and a slight flush suffused her pale cheeks. She opened her eyes and then closed them, as if the light troubled them; then, extending her arms, she passed them about Octave’s neck as he leaned over her; she remained thus for some time, breathing quietly and to all appearances sleeping. Suddenly she said: “You will give me your pin, will you not?” “Is not all that I have yours?” he replied, in a low tone. “Mine!” she continued, in a feebly loving voice; “tell me again that you belong to me, to me alone, Octave!” “You do not send me away any longer, then? you like me to be near you?” he said, with a happy smile, as he kissed the young woman’s brow. “Oh! stay, I beg of you! stay with me forever!” She folded her arms more tightly around him, as if she feared he might leave her. Suddenly she sat up, opened her eyes, and gazed about her in silent astonishment. “What has happened?” said she, “and how is it that you are here? Ah! this is dreadful indeed; you have cruelly punished me for my weakness.” This sudden severity after her delicious abandon, changed Octave’s pleasure into angry vexation. “You are the one,” he replied, “who are cruel! Why allow me so much bliss, if you intended to take it away from me so soon? Since you love me only in your dreams, I beg of you to go to sleep again and never awaken. I will stay near you. Your words were so sweet, but a moment ago, and now you deny them!” “What did I say?” she asked, with hesitation, a deep blush suffusing her face and neck. These symptoms, which he considered a bad augury, increased Octave’s irritation. He arose and said in a bitter tone: