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"
Mon
dieu
!
Mon
dieu
!
"
she
cried
,
gliding
up
to
the
catré
.
"
Maurice
--
wounded
--
dying
!
Who
has
done
this
?
"
There
was
no
reply
:
only
the
mutterings
of
a
madman
.
"
Maurice
!
Maurice
!
speak
to
me
!
Do
you
not
know
me
?
Louise
!
Your
Louise
!
You
have
called
me
so
?
Say
it
--
O
say
it
again
!
"
"
Ah
!
you
are
very
beautiful
,
you
angels
here
in
heaven
!
Very
beautiful
.
Yes
,
yes
;
you
look
so
--
to
the
eyes
--
to
the
eyes
.
But
do
n't
say
there
are
none
like
you
upon
the
Earth
;
for
there
are
--
there
are
.
I
know
one
--
ah
!
more
--
but
one
that
excels
you
all
,
you
angels
in
heaven
!
I
mean
in
beauty
--
in
goodness
,
that
's
another
thing
.
I
'm
not
thinking
of
goodness
--
no
;
no
.
"
"
Maurice
,
dear
Maurice
!
Why
do
you
talk
thus
?
You
are
not
in
heaven
;
you
are
here
with
me
--
with
Louise
.
"
"
I
am
in
heaven
;
yes
,
in
heaven
!
I
do
n't
wish
it
,
for
all
they
say
;
that
is
,
unless
I
can
have
her
with
me
.
It
may
be
a
pleasant
place
.
Not
without
her
.
If
she
were
here
,
I
could
be
content
.
Hear
it
,
ye
angels
,
that
come
hovering
around
me
!
Very
beautiful
,
you
are
,
I
admit
;
but
none
of
you
like
her
--
her
--
my
angel
.
Oh
!
there
's
a
devil
,
too
;
a
beautiful
devil
--
I
do
n't
mean
that
.
I
'm
thinking
only
of
the
angel
of
the
prairies
.
"
"
Do
you
remember
her
name
?
"
Perhaps
never
was
question
put
to
a
delirious
man
,
where
the
questioner
showed
so
much
interest
in
the
answer
.
She
bent
over
him
with
ears
upon
the
strain
--
with
eyes
that
marked
every
movement
of
his
lips
.
