asked for Fabienne's hand, consequently, they were very unhappy. Their
energies flagged, and their courage left them like water that escapes,
drop by drop, through a crack in a jug. They grew low-spirited and no
longer dared to be open towards each other and to exchange confidences
and projects.

Fabienne, with her pale cheeks, her large eyes with blue circles round
them and her tight lips, looked like some captive princess who is
tormented by constant ennui, and troubled by evil suggestions; who
dreams of flight, and of escape from that prison where fate holds her
captive.

One night, when the sky was covered with heavy thunderclouds and the
heat was most oppressive, Madame de Maurillac called her daughter whose
room was next to hers. After calling her loudly for some time in vain,
she sprang out of bed in terror and almost broke open the door with her
trembling hands. The room was empty, and the pillows untouched.

Then, nearly mad and foreseeing some irreparable misfortune, the poor
woman ran all over the large house, and then rushed out into the garden,
where the air was heavy with the scent of flowers. She had the
appearance of some wild animal that is being pursued by a pack of
hounds, tried to penetrate the darkness with her anxious looks, and
gasped as if some one were holding her by the throat; but suddenly she
staggered, uttered a painful cry and fell down in a fit.

There before her, in the shadow of the myrtle trees, Fabienne was
sitting on the knees of a man--of the gardener--with both her arms round
his neck and kissing him ardently, and as if to defy her, and to show
her how vain all her precautions and her vigilance had been, the girl