I felt the wrong I had done her so keenly that I was overcome with shame. After so many promises, so much useless exaltation, so many plans and hopes, what had I, in fact, accomplished in three months! I thought I had a treasure in my heart and there came out of it nothing but malice, the shadow of a dream, and the misfortune of a woman I adored. For the first time, I found myself really face to face with myself; Brigitte reproached me for nothing; she had tried to go away and could not; she was ready to suffer still. I suddenly asked myself if I ought not to leave her, if it was not my duty to flee from her and rid her of the scourge of my presence. I arose and, passing into the next room, sat down on Brigitte's trunk. There, I leaned my head on my hand and sat motionless. I looked about me at the confused piles of goods. Alas! I knew them all; my heart was not so hardened that it could not be moved by the memories which they awakened. I began to calculate all the harm I had done; I saw my dear Brigitte walking under the lindens with her goat beside her. "O man!" I mused, "and by what right? How dared you come to this house and lay hands on this woman? Who has ordained that she should suffer for you? You array yourself in fine linen and set out, sleek and happy, for the home where your mistress languishes; you throw yourself upon the cushions where she has just knelt in prayer, for you and for her, and you gently stroke those delicate hands that still tremble. You think it no evil to inflame a poor heart, and you perorate as warmly in your deliriums of love as the wretched lawyer who comes with red eyes from a suit he has lost. You play the infant prodigy, you make sport of suffering; you find it amusing to occupy your leisure moments, to commit murder by means of little pin pricks. What will you say to the living God when your work is finished? What will become of the woman who loves you? Where will you fall while she leans on you for support? With what face will you one day bury your pale and wretched creature, who has just buried the only being who was left to protect her? Yes, yes, you will doubtless have to bury her, for your love kills and consumes; you have devoted her to the furies and it is she who appeases them. If you follow that woman, you will be the cause of her death. Take care! her guardian angel hesitates; he has just knocked at the door of this house, in order to frighten away a fatal and shameful passion! He inspired Brigitte with the idea of flight; at this moment he may be whispering in her ear his final warning. O you assassin! You murderer! beware! it is a matter of life and death." Thus, I communed with myself; then on the sofa I caught sight of a little gingham dress, folded and ready to be packed in the trunk. It had been the witness of our happy days. I took it up and examined it. "I leave you!" I said to it; "I lose you! O little dress, would you go away without me?"