'Nothing will convince her now that I am not a liar,' I reflected. It was my last thought as I sank, exquisitely drowning, in the sea of sensations caused by Ispenlove's presence. II Without a word, we passed together into the drawing-room, and I closed the door. Ispenlove stood leaning against the piano, as though intensely fatigued; he crushed his gibus with an almost savage movement, and then bent his large, lustrous black eyes absently on the flat top of it. His thin face was whiter even than usual, and his black hair, beard, and moustache all dishevelled; the collar of his overcoat was twisted, and his dinner-jacket rose an inch above it at the back of the neck. I wanted to greet him, but I could not trust my lips. And I saw that he, too, was trying in vain to speak. At length I said, with that banality which too often surprises us in supreme moments: 'What is it? Do you know that your tie is under your ear?' And as I uttered these words, my voice, breaking of itself and in defiance of me, descended into a tone which sounded harsh and inimical. 'Ah!' he murmured, lifting his eyes to mine, 'if you turn against me to-night, I shall--' 'Turn against you!' I cried, shocked. 'Let me help you with your overcoat!' And I went near him, meaning to take his overcoat. 'It's finished between Mary and me,' he said, holding me with his gaze. 'It's finished. I've no one but you now; and I've come--I've come--' He stopped. We read one another's eyes at arm's length, and all the sorrow and pity and love that were in each of us rose to our eyes and shone there. I shivered with pleasure when I saw his arms move, and then he clutched and dragged me to him, and I hid my glowing face on his shoulder, in the dear folds of his overcoat, and I felt his lips on my neck. And then, since neither of us was a coward, we lifted our heads, and our mouths met honestly and fairly, and, so united, we shut our eyes for an eternal moment, and the world was not. Such was the avowal. I gave up my soul to him in that long kiss; all that was me, all that was most secret and precious in me, ascended and poured itself out through my tense lips, and was received by him. I kissed him with myself, with the entire passionate energy of my being--not merely with my mouth. And if I sighed, it was because I tried to give him more--more than I had--and failed. Ah! The sensation of his nearness, the warmth of his face, the titillation of his hair, the slow, luxurious intake of our breaths, the sweet cruelty of his desperate clutch on my shoulders, the glimpses of his skin through my eyelashes when I raised ever so little my eyelids! Pain and joy of life, you were mingled then!