“My friend, I never had reason to complain of you.” He continued: “All I have said to you is true. I understood this when I was alone in my boat. I have spent hours on it to which I would not condemn my worst enemy. Often I felt like throwing myself into the water. I did not do it. Was it because I have religious principles or family sentiments, or because I have no courage? I do not know. The reason is, perhaps, that from a distance you held me to life. I was attracted by you, since I am here. For two days I have been watching you. I did not wish to reappear at your house. I should not have found you alone; I should not have been able to talk to you. And then you would have been forced to receive me. I thought it better to speak to you in the street. The idea came to me on the boat. I said to myself: ‘In the street she will listen to me only if she wishes, as she wished four years ago in the park of Joinville, you know, under the statues, near the crown.’” He continued, with a sigh: “Yes, as at Joinville, since all is to be begun again. For two days I have been watching you. Yesterday it was raining; you went out in a carriage. I might have followed you and learned where you were going if I wished to do it. I did not do it. I do not wish to do what would displease you.” She extended her hand to him. “I thank you. I knew I should not regret the trust I have placed in you.” Alarmed, impatient, fearing what more he might say, she tried to escape him. “Farewell! You have all life before you. You should be happy. Appreciate it, and do not torment yourself about things that are not worth the trouble.” He stopped her with a look. His face had changed to the violent and resolute expression which she knew. “I have told you I must speak to you. Listen to me for a minute.” She was thinking of Jacques, who was waiting for her. An occasional passer-by looked at her and went on his way. She stopped under the black branches of a tree, and waited with pity and fright in her soul. He said: “I forgive you and forget everything. Take me back. I will promise never to say a word of the past.” She shuddered, and made a movement of surprise and distaste so natural that he stopped. Then, after a moment of reflection: “My proposition to you is not an ordinary one, I know it well. But I have reflected. I have thought of everything. It is the only possible thing. Think of it, Therese, and do not reply at once.” “It would be wrong to deceive you. I can not, I will not do what you say; and you know the reason why.” A cab was passing slowly near them. She made a sign to the coachman to stop. Le Menil kept her a moment longer. “I knew you would say this to me, and that is the reason why I say to you, do not reply at once.” Her fingers on the handle of the door, she turned on him the glance of her gray eyes.