could not have been understood by an indifferent spectator; at times they appeared the most happy of living creatures, and the next moment the most unhappy; but although ignorant of their secret, one would have felt that they were suffering together, and, whatever their mysterious trouble, it could be seen that they had placed on their sorrow a seal more powerful than love itself--friendship. While their hands were clasped their glances were chaste; although they were alone, they spoke in low tones. As though overcome by their feelings they sat face to face, although their lips did not touch. They looked at each other tenderly and solemnly. When the clock struck one, the woman heaved a sigh and said: "Octave, are you sure of yourself?" "Yes, my friend, I am resolved. I will suffer much, a long time, perhaps forever; but we will cure ourselves, you with time, I with God." "Octave, Octave," repeated the woman, "are you sure you are not deceiving yourself?" "I do not believe we can forget each other; but I believe that we can forgive and that is what I desire even at the price of separation." "Why could we not meet again? Why not some day--you are so young!" Then she added with a smile: "We could see each other without danger." "No, my friend, for you must know that I could never see you again without loving you. May he to whom I bequeath you be worthy of you! Smith is brave, good and honest, but however much you may love him, you see very well that you still love me, for if I should decide to remain, or to take you away with me, you would consent." "It is true," replied the woman. "True! true!" repeated the young man, looking into her eyes with all his soul. "Is it true that if I wished it you would go with me?" Then he continued softly: "That is the reason I must never see you again. There are certain loves in life that overturn the head, the senses, the mind, the heart; there is among them all but one that does not disturb, that penetrates, and that dies only with the being in which it has taken root." "But you will write to me?" "Yes, at first, for what I have to suffer is so keen that the absence of the habitual object of my love would kill me. When I was unknown to you, I gradually approached closer and closer to you until--but let us not go into the past. Little by little my letters will become less frequent until they cease altogether. I will thus descend the hill that I have been climbing for the past year. When one stands before a fresh grave, over which are engraved two cherished names, one experiences a mysterious sense of grief, which causes tears to trickle down one's cheeks; it is thus that I wish to remember having once lived." At these words the woman threw herself on the couch and burst into tears. The young man wept with her, but he did not move and seemed anxious to appear unconscious of her emotion. When her tears ceased to flow, he approached her, took her hand in his and kissed it.