“No; it is wise and sensible. You have a high position, a reputation to protect, friends to preserve and relations to deal with. You must not lose all these through a mere caprice.” She rose up, and said with violence: “Well, no! I cannot stand it any longer! It is at an end! it is at an end!” Then, placing her two hands on her lover's shoulders, and looking him straight in the face, she asked: “Do you love me?” “Yes.” “Really and truly?” “Yes.” “Then take care of me.” He exclaimed: “Take care of you? In my own house? Here? Why, you are mad. It would mean losing you forever; losing you beyond hope of recall! You are mad!” She replied, slowly and seriously, like a woman who feels the weight of her words: “Listen, Jacques. He has forbidden me to see you again, and I will not play this comedy of coming secretly to your house. You must either lose me or take me.” “My dear Irene, in that case, obtain your divorce, and I will marry you.” “Yes, you will marry me in--two years at the soonest. Yours is a patient love.” “Look here! Reflect! If you remain here he'll come to-morrow to take you away, seeing that he is your husband, seeing that he has right and law on his side.” “I did not ask you to keep me in your own house, Jacques, but to take me anywhere you like. I thought you loved me enough to do that. I have made a mistake. Good-by!” She turned round and went toward the door so quickly that he was only able to catch hold of her when she was outside the room: “Listen, Irene.” She struggled, and would not listen to him. Her eyes were full of tears, and she stammered: “Let me alone! let me alone! let me alone!” He made her sit down by force, and once more falling on his knees at her feet, he now brought forward a number of arguments and counsels to make her understand the folly and terrible risk of her project. He omitted nothing which he deemed necessary to convince her, finding even in his very affection for her incentives to persuasion. As she remained silent and cold as ice, he begged of her, implored of her to listen to him, to trust him, to follow his advice. When he had finished speaking, she only replied: “Are you disposed to let me go away now? Take away your hands, so that I may rise to my feet.” “Look here, Irene.” “Will you let me go?” “Irene--is your resolution irrevocable?” “Will you let me go.” “Tell me only whether this resolution, this mad resolution of yours, which you will bitterly regret, is irrevocable?” “Yes--let me go!” “Then stay. You know well that you are at home here. We shall go away to-morrow morning.” She rose to her feet in spite of him, and said in a hard tone: “No. It is too late. I do not want sacrifice; I do not want devotion.” “Stay! I have done what I ought to do; I have said what I ought to say. I have no further responsibility on your behalf. My conscience is at peace. Tell me what you want me to do, and I will obey.”'