"I have something--" "Why, you're all wrought up," he said, in surprise, as she stopped. "Barabant, I ask you only because there is no hope of life. Barabant, I--" "Why, mignonne, what is it? What has happened?" She threw herself in his arms, sobbing: "Barabant, I want to be a wife!" The moments that he held her in stupefaction were moments of agony to her. He put her from him, looking in amazement at the tear-stained face. "Idiot that I am!" he cried suddenly. "That is what has been tormenting you!" Waiting only for the accent of his voice, she sprang back, trembling, not daring to look at him. "Then you will?" she cried, stretching out her hands to him. "Then you will?" "Of course!" Into his arms she threw herself, sobbing with the poignant ecstasy of joy, while he listened, still uncomprehending. "That means so much to you?" he said. "But I always considered you as my wife." Even in her emotion his simplicity drew from her a smile. "Since when have you had this idea?" "From the beginning." "True?" "Yes." "From--" "From the afternoon of the 10th of August; but I did not realize it then." The correction summed up all her history. All at once Barabant, rousing himself from his amazement, said: "But how are we to be married?" "Do you remember the abbé next to us?" "Yes." "I will ask him." "Do you think he will do it?" he said doubtfully. "I know how to convince him." He kissed her and drew her away from him. "Shall I go?" she said. "Now?" "Fly!" * * * * * She was away a long time. When she reappeared with the priest she said timidly: "I have taken very long. I wanted to confess. It did me good. Does that annoy you?" "No," he said smilingly; and looking at the face of her companion, he said to himself: "She has made him cry." They joined hands, kneeling before the black-robed figure in the warm room, pervaded with the sunlight that the bars on the window could not arrest. He made them man and wife, and blessed them, and, bending, put out his hands to raise the woman. But almost immediately, with a smile that was of the compassionate master, he ceased his attempts and stole from the room. * * * * * "Tell me one thing," Barabant asked. "What is it?" "Why did you not ask before?" "I could not ask. Now it makes no difference." "But why?" Again and again, through their solitary afternoon, as they waited, now silent, now questioning each other, he returned to his query without success. At five o'clock, perceiving in her body an involuntary shudder, he said: "You're not afraid of to-morrow?" "No. So many others have gone." She had a superstitious idea of God and another world, confused, simple, and sufficient. Thinking of Javogues, she added: "The abbé said I should be saved. Do you believe it?" "Yes," he answered, respecting her faith. "I shall not fear, either." "I know," she answered dreamily.