But this is not of public signification that I should occupy with it the
time of M. le Maire.

After a while my happiness came to an end. I can no more tell how, than
I can tell how it came. One moment, I was warm in her presence; the
next, I was alone. I rose up staggering with blindness and woe--could it
be that already, already it was over? I went out blindly following after
her. My God, I shall follow, I shall follow, till life is over. She
loved me; but she was gone.

Thus, despair came to me at the very moment when the longing of my soul
was satisfied and I found myself among the unseen; but I cared for
knowledge no longer, I sought only her. I lost a portion of my time so.
I regret to have to confess it to M. le Maire. Much that I might have
learned will thus remain lost to my fellow-citizens and the world. We
are made so. What we desire eludes us at the moment of grasping it--or
those affections which are the foundation of our lives preoccupy us, and
blind the soul. Instead of endeavouring to establish my faith and
enlighten my judgment as to those mysteries which have been my life-long
study, all higher purpose departed from me; and I did nothing but rush
through the city, groping among those crowds, seeing nothing, thinking
of nothing--save of One.

From this also I awakened as out of a dream. What roused me was the
pealing of the Cathedral bells. I was made to pause and stand still, and
return to myself. Then I perceived, but dimly, that the thing which had
happened to me was that which I had desired all my life. I leave this
explanation of my failure [Footnote: The reader will remember that the
ringing of the Cathedral bells happened in fact very soon after the
exodus of the citizens; so that the self-reproaches of M. Lecamus had