I possess her—­she is mine!  In sublime docility she yields to my violent caress.  Now she is mine—­mine forever!  Henceforth let what may befall; let the years go by and the winters follow the summers, she is mine, and my life is granted me!  Proudly I think of the great and famous lovers whom we resemble.  I perceive that there is no recognized law which can stand against the might of love.  And under the transient wing of the foliage, amid the continuous recessional of heaven and earth, we repeat “never”; we repeat “always”; and we proclaim it to eternity.

* * * * * *

The leaves are falling; the year draws near to its end; the wedding is arranged to take place about Christmas.

That decision was mine; Marie said “yes,” as usual, and her father, absorbed all the day in figures, would emerge from them at night, like a shipwrecked man, seeing darkly, passive, except on rare occasions when he had fits of mad obstinacy, and no one knew why.

In the early morning sometimes, when I was climbing Chestnut Hill on my way to work, Marie would appear before me at a corner, in the pale and blushing dawn.  We would walk on together, bathed in those fresh fires, and would watch the town at our feet rising again from its ashes.  Or, on my way back, she would suddenly be there, and we would walk side by side towards her home.  We loved each other too much to be able to talk.  A very few words we exchanged just to entwine our voices, and in speaking of other people we smiled at each other.

One day, about that time, Monsieur the Marquis of Monthyon had the kindly thought of asking us both to an evening party at the castle, with several leading people of our quarter.  When all the guests were gathered in a huge gallery, adorned with busts which sat in state between high curtains of red damask, the Marquis took it into his head to cut off the electricity.  In a lordly way he liked heavy practical jokes—­I was just smiling at Marie, who was standing near me in the middle of the crowded gallery, when suddenly it was dark.  I put out my arms and drew her to me.  She responded with a spirit she had not shown before, our lips met more passionately than ever, and our single body swayed among the invisible, ejaculating throng that elbowed and jostled us.  The light flashed again.  We had loosed our hold.  Ah, it was not Marie whom I had clasped!  The woman fled with a stifled exclamation of shame and indignation towards him who she believed had embraced her, and who had seen nothing.  Confused, and as though still blind, I rejoined Marie, but I was myself again with difficulty.  In spite of all, that kiss which had suddenly brought me in naked contact with a complete stranger remained to me an extraordinary and infernal delight.  Afterwards, I thought I recognized the woman by her blue dress, half seen at the same time as the gleam of her neck after that brief and dazzling incident.  But there were three of them somewhat alike.  I never knew which of those unknown women concealed within her flesh the half of the thrill that I could not shake off all the evening.