“Bernard, all the same, you’re not thinking of ...” but he stops. His friend raises his eyes and, though he cannot see him very distinctly, perceives his confusion. “Of what?” he asks. “What do you mean? Tell me. Of stealing?” Olivier shakes his head. No, that’s not it! Suddenly he bursts into tears and clasping Bernard convulsively in his arms: “Promise me that you won’t....” Bernard kisses him, then pushes him away laughing. He has understood. “Oh! yes! I promise.... But all the same you must admit it would be the easiest way out.” But Olivier feels reassured; he knows that these last words are an affectation of cynicism. “Your exam?” “Yes; that’s rather a bore. I don’t want to be ploughed. I think I’m ready all right. It’s more a question of feeling fit on the day. I must manage to get something fixed up very quickly. It’s touch and go; but I _shall_ manage. You’ll see.” They sit for a moment in silence. The second slipper has fallen. Then Bernard: “You’ll catch cold. Get back into bed.” “No; _you_ must get into bed.” “You’re joking. Come along! quick!” and he forces Olivier to get into the bed which he has already lain down in and which is all tumbled. “But you? Where are _you_ going to sleep?” “Anywhere. On the floor. In a corner. I must get accustomed to roughing it.” “No. Look here! I want to tell you something, but I shan’t be able to unless I feel you close to me. Get into my bed.” And when Bernard, after undressing himself in a twinkling, has got in beside him: “You know ... what I told you the other day ... well, it’s come off. I went.” There was no need to say more for Bernard to understand. He pressed up against his friend. “Well! it’s disgusting ... horrible.... Afterwards I wanted to spit--to be sick--to tear my skin off--to kill myself.” “You’re exaggerating.” “To kill _her_.” “Who was it? You haven’t been imprudent, have you?” “No; it’s some creature Dhurmer knows. He introduced me. It was her talk that was the most loathsome. She never once stopped jabbering. And oh! the deadly stupidity of it! Why can’t people hold their tongues at such moments, I wonder? I should have liked to strangle her--to gag her.” “Poor old Olivier! You didn’t think that Dhurmer could get hold of anybody but an idiot, did you? Was she pretty, anyway?” “D’you suppose I looked at her?” “You’re a donkey! You’re a darling!... Let’s go to sleep.... But ... did you bring it off all right?” “God! That’s the most disgusting thing about it. I was able to, in spite of everything ... just as if I’d desired her.” “Well, it’s magnificent, my dear boy.” “Oh, shut up! If that’s what they call love--I’m fed up with it.” “What a baby you are!” “What would _you_ have been, pray?” “Oh, you know, I’m not particularly keen; as I’ve told you before, I’m biding my time. In cold blood, like that, it doesn’t appeal to me. All the same if I----” “If you...?” “If she.... Nothing! Let’s go to sleep.”