‘Oh! you will come!’ she stammered; ’you must come; you will make me so miserable if you don’t.  You can’t want me to be miserable. . . .  And even if you knew that you would die there, even if that shade should be fatal to both of us, would you hesitate or cast a regretful look behind?  We should remain there, at the foot of the tree, and sleep on quietly for ever, in one anther’s arms.  Ah! would it not be bliss indeed?’

‘Yes, yes!’ he stammered, transported by her passionate entreaties.

‘But we shall not die,’ she continued, raising her voice, and laughing with the laugh which proclaims woman’s victory; ’we shall live to love each other.  It is a tree of life, a tree whose shadow will make us stronger, more perfect, more complete.  You will see that all will now go happily.  Some blessed joy will assuredly descend on us from heaven!  Will you come?’

His face paled, and his eyelids quivered, as though too powerful a light were suddenly beating against them.

‘Will you come? will you come?’ she cried again, yet more passionately, and already half rising to her feet.

He sprang up and followed her, at first with tottering steps and then with his arm thrown round her waist, as if he could endure no separation from her.  He went where she went, carried along in the warm fragrance that streamed from her hair.  And as he thus remained slightly in the rear, she turned upon him a face so radiant with love, such tempting lips and eyes, which so imperiously bade him follow, that he would have gone with her anywhere, trusting and unquestioning, like a dog.

XV

They went down and out into the garden without the smile fading from Serge’s face.  All that he saw of the greenery around him was such as was reflected in the clear depths of Albine’s eyes.  As they approached, the garden smiled and smiled again, a murmur of content sped from leaf to leaf and from bough to bough to the furthest depths of the avenues.  For days and days the garden must have been hoping and expecting to see them thus, clinging to one another, making their peace again with the trees and searching for their lost love on the grassy banks.  A solemn warning breath sighed through the branches; the afternoon sky was drowsy with heat; the plants raised their bowing heads to watch them pass.

‘Listen,’ whispered Albine.  ’They drop into silence as we come near them; but over yonder they are expecting us, they are telling each other the way they must lead us. . . .  I told you we should have no trouble about the paths, the trees themselves will direct us with their spreading arms.’

The whole park did, indeed, appear to be impelling them gently onward.  In their rear it seemed as if a barrier of brush-wood had bristled up to prevent them from retracing their steps; while, in front of them, the grassy lawns spread out so invitingly, that they glided along the soft slopes, without thought of choosing their way.