she tried to take her eyes away. She could not. She shuddered and
shrank.

He withdrew his eyes for a moment. "You will go?" he asked.

"It makes no difference," she answered; then added sharply: "Who are you,
to look at me like that, to--!"

She paused.

"I am your friend and your master!"

He rose. "Good-night," he said, at the door, and went out.

He heard the key turn in the lock. He had forgotten his papers and
letters. It did not matter. He would read them when she was gone--if
she did go. He was far from sure that he had succeeded. He went to bed
in another room, and was soon asleep.

He was waked in the very early morning by feeling a face against his,
wet, trembling.

"What is it, Andree?" he asked. Her arms ran round his neck.

"Oh, mon amour! Mon adore! Je t'aime! Je t'aime!"

In the evening of this day she said she knew not how it was, but on that
first evening in Audierne there suddenly came to her a strange terrible
feeling, which seemed to dry up all the springs of her desire for him.
She could not help it. She had fought against it, but it was no use; yet