"Brigitte," I said, "bid me farewell. I shall carry this box away with me; you will forget me, and you will live if you wish to save me from becoming a murderer. I shall set out this very night; you will agree with me that God demands it. Give me a last kiss." I bent over her and kissed her forehead. "Not yet!" she cried, in anguish. But I repulsed her and left the room. Three hours later I was ready to set out, and the horses were at the door. It was still raining when I entered the carriage. At the moment the carriage was starting, I felt two arms about my body and a sob which spent itself on my lips. It was Brigitte. I did all I could to persuade her to remain; I ordered the driver to stop; I even told her that I would return to her when time should have effaced the memory of the wrongs I had done her. I forced myself to prove to her that yesterday was the same as to-day, to-day as yesterday; I repeated that I could only render her unhappy, that to attach herself to me was but to make an assassin of me. I resorted to prayers, to vows, to threats even; her only reply was: "You are going away; take me, let us take leave of the country, let us take leave of the past. We can not live here; let us go elsewhere, wherever you please; let us go and die together in some remote corner of the world. We must be happy, I by you, you by me." I kissed her with such passion that I feared my heart would burst. "Drive on!" I cried to the coachman. We threw ourselves into each other's arms, and the horses set out at a gallop. ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: Adieu, my son, I love you and I die All philosophy is akin to atheism And when love is sure of itself and knows response Can any one prevent a gossip Each one knows what the other is about to say Good and bad days succeeded each other almost regularly Great sorrows neither accuse nor blaspheme--they listen Happiness of being pursued He who is loved by a beautiful woman is sheltered from every blow I neither love nor esteem sadness It is a pity that you must seek pastimes Man who suffers wishes to make her whom he loves suffer No longer esteemed her highly enough to be jealous of her Pure caprice that I myself mistook for a flash of reason Quarrel had been, so to speak, less sad than our reconciliation She pretended to hope for the best Terrible words; I deserve them, but they will kill me There are two different men in you We have had a mass celebrated, and it cost us a large sum What human word will ever express thy slightest caress What you take for love is nothing more than desire