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And
fixing
her
eyes
upon
an
embossed
carabine
,
that
shone
against
its
panoply
,
"
But
when
one
is
so
poor
one
does
n't
have
silver
on
the
butt
of
one
's
gun
.
One
does
n't
buy
a
clock
inlaid
with
tortoise
shell
,
"
she
went
on
,
pointing
to
a
buhl
timepiece
,
"
nor
silver-gilt
whistles
for
one
's
whips
,
"
and
she
touched
them
,
"
nor
charms
for
one
's
watch
.
Oh
,
he
wants
for
nothing
!
even
to
a
liqueur-stand
in
his
room
!
For
you
love
yourself
;
you
live
well
.
You
have
a
chateau
,
farms
,
woods
;
you
go
hunting
;
you
travel
to
Paris
.
Why
,
if
it
were
but
that
,
"
she
cried
,
taking
up
two
studs
from
the
mantelpiece
,
"
but
the
least
of
these
trifles
,
one
can
get
money
for
them
.
Oh
,
I
do
not
want
them
,
keep
them
!
"
And
she
threw
the
two
links
away
from
her
,
their
gold
chain
breaking
as
it
struck
against
the
wall
.
"
But
I
!
I
would
have
given
you
everything
.
I
would
have
sold
all
,
worked
for
you
with
my
hands
,
I
would
have
begged
on
the
highroads
for
a
smile
,
for
a
look
,
to
hear
you
say
'
Thanks
!
'
And
you
sit
there
quietly
in
your
arm-chair
,
as
if
you
had
not
made
me
suffer
enough
already
!
But
for
you
,
and
you
know
it
,
I
might
have
lived
happily
.
What
made
you
do
it
?
Was
it
a
bet
?
Yet
you
loved
me
--
you
said
so
.
And
but
a
moment
since
--
Ah
!
it
would
have
been
better
to
have
driven
me
away
.
My
hands
are
hot
with
your
kisses
,
and
there
is
the
spot
on
the
carpet
where
at
my
knees
you
swore
an
eternity
of
love
!
You
made
me
believe
you
;
for
two
years
you
held
me
in
the
most
magnificent
,
the
sweetest
dream
!
Eh
!
Our
plans
for
the
journey
,
do
you
remember
?
Oh
,
your
letter
!
your
letter
!
it
tore
my
heart
!
And
then
when
I
come
back
to
him
--
to
him
,
rich
,
happy
,
free
--
to
implore
the
help
the
first
stranger
would
give
,
a
suppliant
,
and
bringing
back
to
him
all
my
tenderness
,
he
repulses
me
because
it
would
cost
him
three
thousand
francs
!
"
"
I
have
n't
got
them
,
"
replied
Rodolphe
,
with
that
perfect
calm
with
which
resigned
rage
covers
itself
as
with
a
shield
.
She
went
out
.
The
walls
trembled
,
the
ceiling
was
crushing
her
,
and
she
passed
back
through
the
long
alley
,
stumbling
against
the
heaps
of
dead
leaves
scattered
by
the
wind
.
At
last
she
reached
the
ha-ha
hedge
in
front
of
the
gate
;
she
broke
her
nails
against
the
lock
in
her
haste
to
open
it
.
Then
a
hundred
steps
farther
on
,
breathless
,
almost
falling
,
she
stopped
.
And
now
turning
round
,
she
once
more
saw
the
impassive
chateau
,
with
the
park
,
the
gardens
,
the
three
courts
,
and
all
the
windows
of
the
facade
.
She
remained
lost
in
stupor
,
and
having
no
more
consciousness
of
herself
than
through
the
beating
of
her
arteries
,
that
she
seemed
to
hear
bursting
forth
like
a
deafening
music
filling
all
the
fields
.
The
earth
beneath
her
feet
was
more
yielding
than
the
sea
,
and
the
furrows
seemed
to
her
immense
brown
waves
breaking
into
foam
.
Everything
in
her
head
,
of
memories
,
ideas
,
went
off
at
once
like
a
thousand
pieces
of
fireworks
.
She
saw
her
father
,
Lheureux
's
closet
,
their
room
at
home
,
another
landscape
.
Madness
was
coming
upon
her
;
she
grew
afraid
,
and
managed
to
recover
herself
,
in
a
confused
way
,
it
is
true
,
for
she
did
not
in
the
,
least
remember
the
cause
of
the
terrible
condition
she
was
in
,
that
is
to
say
,
the
question
of
money
.
She
suffered
only
in
her
love
,
and
felt
her
soul
passing
from
her
in
this
memory
;
as
wounded
men
,
dying
,
feel
their
life
ebb
from
their
bleeding
wounds
.
Night
was
falling
,
crows
were
flying
about
.
Suddenly
it
seemed
to
her
that
fiery
spheres
were
exploding
in
the
air
like
fulminating
balls
when
they
strike
,
and
were
whirling
,
whirling
,
to
melt
at
last
upon
the
snow
between
the
branches
of
the
trees
.
In
the
midst
of
each
of
them
appeared
the
face
of
Rodolphe
.
They
multiplied
and
drew
near
her
,
penetrating
,
her
.
It
all
disappeared
;
she
recognised
the
lights
of
the
houses
that
shone
through
the
fog
.
