"No, M. Boerzell!..." Thérèse stammered between two sobs. "You are exaggerating.... It is true that I have been hard to you.... But I like you very much ... very much more than I did." He paused to look at her. She eyed him with sympathy in her gray eyes, which were full of tears. With an unconscious movement of tenderness, she stretched out her hand to him. He fell back a step, he was so surprised; then he seized Thérèse's hand and, without kneeling down, without any such demonstration usually made by a lover who has just been accepted, he said in a halting voice which betrayed the intensity of his emotion: "What! mademoiselle!... Am I mistaken? Do I understand the meaning of your words? You might be willing, you are consenting?" "I don't know," sighed Mlle. Raindal, oppressed by discouragement, and withal touched by his anxiety. "Later, perhaps.... I shall see...." "Oh, thank you!" Boerzell exclaimed, as he pressed the feverish hand of his visitor ardently. "Thank you, mademoiselle.... You will see.... You will see how much I shall try to make you happy and contented...." He looked at her kindly, with little shivers of gratefulness running along the corners of his temples. But suddenly his face darkened and he gently let go the young lady's hand: "And yet, no.... That would be to take advantage of your present state ... of your disturbed condition. I refuse a consent which I could extort from you in the midst of your sorrow and your tears.... Our marriage can only be accomplished through your own free will, and in the complete mastery of yourself. Later, as you say ... later, when you have recovered your calm and your clear sight, if you still hold the same sentiments toward me, you know what happiness you will give me, if you accept and become my wife.... Until then, I seek nothing from you but your friendship.... We are not heroes of novels nor fools nor madmen.... Our union must not be brought about by a subterfuge, by some surprise, or by a lack of reflection that might carry us away.... I would rather renounce you forever than to know I had conquered you by such vulgar means.... In the days to come, whatever may happen, I can assure you that neither you nor I will regret our wisdom of to-day. Am I not right, mademoiselle?" He stood in front of Thérèse and sought his answer in her eyes. She endured his persistent look for a long time, then replied in melancholy accents: "You are the very incarnation of common sense!... You are the best and most loyal of friends.... Just as you say!... Let us wait.... That, as a matter of fact, is more worthy of such old wise people as you and I.... Nevertheless, I would like to show you my gratitude. I don't want to leave you now, after the words that have passed between us, without giving you some proof of my friendship...." "That is quite easy, mademoiselle!" Boerzell replied quietly. "In what way?"