The chain is forged again. The mists of passion rise thickly, heavily, and blot out all else forever. Hélène’s song ceased. He heard them praise her, and heard “Good nights” and “Au revoirs” exchanged. He rose and stood near the door. Ruth passed him like a shadow. They all remained at the foot of the stairs for a moment, repeating their “Adieus” and “Remerciements.” He was utterly reckless, but cool enough still to watch for his chance in this confusion of civilities. It came; for one instant he could whisper to her, “I must see you tonight.” Then the voices were gone and he stood alone on the porch, the wet wind blowing in his face, his face turned up to a heavy sky covered with black, driving clouds. He could hear the river and the moaning of the trees. It seemed as if he had stood there for hours, never moving. Then there was a step in the dark hall, on the threshold, and Yvonne lay trembling in his arms. The sky was beginning to show a tint of early dawn when they stepped once more upon the silent porch. The wind had gone down. Clouds were piled up in the west, but the east was clear. Perfect stillness was over everything. Not a living creature was in sight, excepting that far up, across the stream, Sepp and Zimbach were climbing toward the Schinder. “I must go in now. I must you—child!” said Yvonne in her old voice, smoothing her hair with both hands. Rex held her back. “My wife?” he said. “Yes!” She raised her face and kissed him on the lips, then clung to him weeping. “Hush! hush! It is I who should do that,” he murmured, pressing her cheek against his breast. Once more she turned to leave him, but he detained her. “Yvonne, come with me and be married today!” “You know it is impossible. Today! what a boy you are! As if we could!” “Well then, in a few days—in a week, as soon as possible.” “Oh! my dearest! do not make it so hard for me! How could I desert Madame so? After all she has done for me? When I know all her hopes are set on me; that if I fail her she has no one ready to take my place! Because she was so sure of me, she did not try to bring on any other pupil for next autumn. And last season was a bad one for her and Monsieur. Their debutante failed; they lost money. Behold this child!” she exclaimed, with a rapid return to her old gay manner, “to whom I have explained all this at least a hundred times already, and he asks me why we cannot be married today!” Then with another quick change, she laid her cheek tenderly against his and murmured: “I might have died but for her. You would not have me desert her so cruelly, Rex?” “My love! No!” A new respect mingled with his passion. Yes, she was faithful! “And now I will go in! Rex, Rex, you are quite as bad as ever! Look at my hair!” She leaned lightly on his shoulder, her old laughing self. He smiled back sadly. “Again! After all! You silly, silly boy! And it is such a little while to wait!” “Belle Hélène is very popular in Paris. The piece may run a long time.”