When the door closed behind the worthy corporal, Chanlouineau took hold of Marie-Anne’s hand and drew her to the tiny grated window. “Thank you for coming,” said he, “thank you. I can see you and speak to you once more. Now that my hours are numbered, I may reveal the secret of my soul and of my life. Now, I can venture to tell you how ardently I have loved you--how much I still love you.” Involuntarily Marie-Anne drew away her hand and stepped back; for this outburst of passion, at such a moment and in such a place, seemed at once unspeakably sad and shocking. “Have I, then, offended you?” asked Chanlouineau, sadly. “Forgive me--for I am about to die! You cannot refuse to listen to the voice of one, who, to-morrow, will vanish from earth forever. I have loved you for a long time, Marie-Anne, for more than six years. Before I saw you, I only cared for my belongings, and to raise fine crops and gather money together seemed to me the greatest possible happiness here below. And when at first I did meet you--you were so high, and I so low, that in my wildest dreams I did not dare to aspire to you. I went to the church each Sunday only that I might worship you as peasant women worship the Virgin; I went home with my eyes and heart full of you--and that was all. But then came your father’s misfortunes, which brought us nearer to each other; and your father made me as insane, yes, as insane as himself. After the insults he received from the Duke de Sairmeuse, M. Lacheneur resolved to revenge himself upon all these arrogant nobles, and selected me for his accomplice. He had read my heart as easily as if it had been an open book; and when we left the baron’s house that Sunday evening we both have such good reason to remember, he said to me: ‘You love my daughter, my boy. Very well, assist me, and I promise you, that if we succeed, she shall be your wife. Only,’ he added, ‘I must warn you that you risk your life.’ But what was life in comparison with the hopes that dazzled me? From that night, I gave body, soul, and fortune to his cause. Others were influenced by hatred, or ambition; but I was actuated by neither of these motives. What did the quarrels of these great folks matter to me--a simple labourer? I knew that the greatest were powerless to give my crops a drop of rain in seasons of drought, or a ray of sunshine during long spells of rain. I took part in the conspiracy, it was because I loved you----” It seemed to Marie-Anne that he was reproaching her for the deception she had been forced to practise, and for the cruel fate to which Lacheneur’s wild designs had brought him. “Ah, you are cruel,” she cried, “you are pitiless!”