Madame Pierson made no reply; all that evening she was even more cheerful than usual. When we played cards with her aunt and I lost, she was merciless in her scorn, saying that I knew nothing of the game, and betting against me with so much success that she won all I had in my purse. When the old lady retired, she stepped out on the balcony and I followed her in silence. The night was beautiful; the moon was setting and the stars shone brightly in a field of deep azure. Not a breath of wind stirred the trees; the air was warm and laden with the perfume of spring. She was leaning on her elbow, her eyes in the heavens; I leaned over her and watched her as she dreamed. Then I raised my own eyes; a voluptuous melancholy seized us both. We breathed together, the warm perfume wafted to us from the garden; we followed, in its lingering course, the pale light of the moon which glinted through the chestnut-trees. I thought of a certain day when I had looked up at the broad expanse of heaven with despair; I trembled at the recollection of that hour; life was so rich now! I felt a hymn of praise rising up in my heart. I surrounded the form of my dear beloved with my arm; she gently turned her head; her eyes were bathed in tears. Her body yielded, as does the rose, her open lips fell on mine, and the universe was forgotten. CHAPTER X ETERNAL angel of happy nights, who will utter thy silence? A kiss! mysterious vintage that flows from the lips as from a stainless chalice! Intoxication of the senses! O voluptuous pleasure! Yes, like God, thou art immortal! Sublime exaltation of the creature, universal communion of beings, thrice sacred pleasure, what have they sung who have celebrated thy praise? They have called thee transitory, O thou who dost create! And they have said that thy passing beams have illumined their fugitive life. Words that are as feeble as the dying breath! Words of a sensual brute who is astonished that he should live for an hour, and who mistakes the rays of the eternal lamp for the spark which is struck from the flint. O love! thou principle of life! precious flame over which all nature, like a careful vestal, incessantly watches in the temple of God! Center of all, by whom all exists! The spirit of destruction would itself die, blowing at thy flame! I am not astonished that thy name should be blasphemed, for they do not know who thou art, they who think they have seen thy face because they have opened their eyes; and when thou findest thy true prophets, united on earth with a kiss, thou closest their eyes lest they look upon the face of perfect joy.