"Oh! my only friend," I cried, "oh! my mistress, my mother, and my sister! Pray also for me that I may be able to love you as you deserve. Pray that I may have the courage to live; that my heart may be cleansed in your tears; that it may become a holy offering before God and that we may share it together." All was silent about us; above our heads spread the heavens resplendent with stars. "Do you remember," I said, "do you remember the first day?" From that night we never returned to that spot. That rock was an altar which has retained its purity; it is one of the visions of my life, and it still passes before my eyes wreathed in spotless white. CHAPTER IV BRIGITTE'S LOSS As I was crossing the public square one evening I saw two men standing together; one of them said: "It appears to me that he has ill-treated her." "It is her fault," replied the other; "why choose such a man? He has known only public women; she is paying the price of her folly." I advanced in the darkness to see who was speaking thus, and to hear more if possible; but they passed on as soon as they spied me. I found Brigitte much disturbed; her aunt was seriously ill; she had time for only a few words with me. I did not see her for an entire week; I knew that she had summoned a physician from Paris; finally she sent for me. "My aunt is dead," she said; "I lose the only one left me on earth, I am now alone in the world, and I am going to leave the country." "Am I, then, nothing to you?" "Yes, my friend; you know that I love you, and I often believe that you love me. But how can I count on you? I am your mistress, alas! but you are not my lover. It is for you that Shakespeare has written these sad words: 'Make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, for thy mind is a very opal.' And I, Octave," she added, pointing to her mourning costume, "I am reduced to a single color, and I shall not change it for a long time." "Leave the country if you choose; I will either kill myself or I will follow you. Ah! Brigitte," I continued, throwing myself on my knees before her, "you thought you were alone when your aunt died! That is the most cruel punishment you could inflict on me; never have I so keenly felt the misery of my love for you. You must retract those terrible words; I deserve them, but they will kill me. Oh, God! can it be true that I count for nothing in your life, or that I am an influence in your life only because of the evil I have done you!"