If he took her to the theatre,
she kissed his hand in gratitude. If he went out alone, she was sad,
but she said nothing and asked no questions, which touched him so much
that he gradually relinquished the habit of going out alone. If he
gave her anything, she was reluctant to accept it; she would scarcely
allow him even to bestow any articles of dress. In the whole two years
he had never seen her nervous or out of temper. Yet he ought, he must
repulse this loyal devotion. Yes, he must. For he could not be so
crazy as to marry her! At twenty-three! A girl who had been picked up
on the sidewalk of the Rue Montmartre. The thought was so absurd that
it was not worth while to dwell upon it a moment. Then, when he told
her that the happiness must now end, he saw her, to his surprise and
terror, turn deadly pale and sink back fainting.
On recovering her consciousness, she burst into endless sobs, clung to
his neck, covered him with burning kisses and tears, and exclaimed:
"No, no, you won't leave me; I cannot, I cannot, I would rather die."
He vainly endeavored to bring her to reason.
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