In the warm night, amid all the perfumes that stirred in the breeze, Suzanne's own scent was wafted up to him. He inhaled it long and greedily and reflected that no scent had ever excited him before: "Good-bye," he said, within himself. "Good-bye, little girl; good-bye to what was my love." And, during those last minutes, as though he were granting a crowning grace to his impossible longings and his forbidden dreams, he yielded to the delights of that love which had blossomed so mysteriously in the unknown regions of his soul. "Good-bye," Suzanne now said. "Good-bye, Philippe." "Are you going?" "Yes, or else my father would come back with me; and I want nobody ... nobody...." Jorance and old Morestal had stopped near a bench, at a place where two paths met, the wider of which, the one on the left, climbed up towards the frontier. The spot was known as the Carrefour du Grand Chene, or Great Oak Crossways. Morestal kissed the girl again: "Good-bye, for the present, Suzanne. And don't forget that I'm coming to your wedding." He pressed the spring of his repeater: "I say, Philippe, it's a quarter past ten.... True, there's no hurry.... Your mother and Marthe must be asleep by now. No matter, let's get on...." "Look here, father, if you don't mind, I would rather take the direct road.... The path by the Butte-aux-Loups is longer; and I am feeling rather tired." In reality, like Suzanne, Philippe wanted to go home alone, so that nothing might disturb the melancholy charm of his dream. Old Morestal's long speeches terrified him. "As you please, my boy," cried the old man. "But mind you don't put up the bolt or the chain on the hall-door." Jorance impressed the same injunctions on Suzanne and the two walked away. "Good-bye, Philippe," said the girl, once again. He had already entered the path on the right. "Good-bye, Suzanne," he said. "Give me your hand, Philippe." For his hand to reach Suzanne's, he had to turn two or three steps back. He hesitated. But she had come towards him and, very gently, drew him to the foot of the path: "Philippe, we must not part like this.... It is too sad! Let us go back together to Saint-Elophe ... as far as the house.... Please do...." "No," he said, curtly. "Oh!" she moaned. "I asked so that I might be with you a little longer.... It is so sad! But you are right. Let us part." He said, in a kinder tone: "Suzanne.... Suzanne...." Bending her head a little, she put out her forehead to him: "Kiss me, Philippe." He stooped, intending to kiss the curls of her hair. But she gave a swift movement and flung her arms round his neck. He felt that he was lost and made a despairing effort. Suzanne's lips were close to his, offering themselves. "Oh, Suzanne ... Suzanne, my darling ..." he whispered, abandoning all resistance and pressing the girl to his breast.... CHAPTER VIII THE TRAP