All was silent about us; above our heads spread the heavens resplendent with stars.

“Do you remember,” I said, “do you remember the first day?”

From that night we never returned to that spot.  That rock was an altar which has retained its purity; it is one of the visions of my life, and it still passes before my eyes wreathed in spotless white.

CHAPTER IV

BRIGITTE’S LOSS

As I was crossing the public square one evening I saw two men standing together; one of them said: 

“It appears to me that he has ill-treated her.”

“It is her fault,” replied the other; “why choose such a man?  He has known only public women; she is paying the price of her folly.”

I advanced in the darkness to see who was speaking thus, and to hear more if possible; but they passed on as soon as they spied me.

I found Brigitte much disturbed; her aunt was seriously ill; she had time for only a few words with me.  I did not see her for an entire week; I knew that she had summoned a physician from Paris; finally she sent for me.

“My aunt is dead,” she said; “I lose the only one left me on earth, I am now alone in the world, and I am going to leave the country.”

“Am I, then, nothing to you?”

“Yes, my friend; you know that I love you, and I often believe that you love me.  But how can I count on you?  I am your mistress, alas! but you are not my lover.  It is for you that Shakespeare has written these sad words:  ’Make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, for thy mind is a very opal.’  And I, Octave,” she added, pointing to her mourning costume, “I am reduced to a single color, and I shall not change it for a long time.”

“Leave the country if you choose; I will either kill myself or I will follow you.  Ah!  Brigitte,” I continued, throwing myself on my knees before her, “you thought you were alone when your aunt died!  That is the most cruel punishment you could inflict on me; never have I so keenly felt the misery of my love for you.  You must retract those terrible words; I deserve them, but they will kill me.  Oh, God! can it be true that I count for nothing in your life, or that I am an influence in your life only because of the evil I have done you!”

“I do not know,” she said, “who is busying himself in our affairs; certain insinuations, mixed with idle gossip, have been set afloat in the village and in the neighboring country.  Some say that I have been ruined; others accuse me of imprudence and folly; others represent you as a cruel and dangerous man.  Some one has spied into our most secret thoughts; things that I thought no one else knew, events in your life and sad scenes to which they have led, are known to others; my poor aunt spoke to me about it not long ago, and she knew it some time before speaking to me.  Who knows but that that has hastened her death?