Pierre had just turned the corner of the
street, when he came upon them. Virginie
would have passed him without recognising
him, she was in such passionate agitation,
but for Morin's gesture, by which he would
fain have kept Pierre from interrupting
them. Then, when Virginie saw the lad, she
caught at his arm, and thanked God, as if in
that boy of twelve or fourteen she held a
protector. Pierre felt her tremble from head
to foot, and was afraid lest she would fall,
there where she stood, in the hard rough
street.

"'Begone, Pierre!' said Morin.

"'I cannot,' replied Pierre, who indeed
was held firmly by Virginie. 'Besides, I
won't,' he added. 'Who has been frightening
Mademoiselle in this way? asked he, very
much inclined to brave his cousin at all
hazards.

"'Mademoiselle is not accustomed to walk
in the streets alone,' said  Morin, sulkily.
'She came uponacrowd attracted by the
arrest of an aristocrat, and their cries alarmed
her. I offerd to take charge of her home.
Mademioselle should not walk in these streets
alone.  We are not like the cold–blooded
people of the Fauborg Saint Germain.'

"Virginie did not speak. Pierre doubted
if she heard a word of what they were saying.
She leant upon him more and more
heavily.

"'Will Mademoiselle condescend to take
my arm?' said Morin, with sulky, and yet
humble, uncouthness. I dare say he would
have given worlds if he might have had that
little hand within his arm; but, though she
still kept silence, she shuddered up away
from him, as you shrink from touching a
toad. He had said something to her during
that walk, you may be sure, which had made
her loathe him. He marked and understood
the gesture. He held himself aloof while
Pierre gave her all the assistance he could in
their slow progress homewards. But Morin
accompanied her all the same. He had
played too desperate a game to be baulked
now. He had given information against the
ci–devant Marquis de Créquy, as a returned
emigré, to be met with at such a time, in
such a place. Morin had hoped that all sign
of the arrest would have been cleared away
before Virginie reached the spot—so swiftly
were terrible deeds done in those days. But
Clément defended himself desperately:
Virginie was punctual to a second; and, though
the wounded man was borne off to the
Abbaye amid a crowd of the unsympathising
jeerers who mingled with the armed officials
of the Directory, Morin feared lest Virginie
evidently grew alarmed at her nephew's
had recognised him; and he would have
preferred that she should have thought that
the faithful cousin was faithless, than that,
she should have seen him in bloody danger
on her account. I suppose he thought that,
if Virginie never saw or heard more of
him her imagination would not dwell on
his simple disappearance, as it would do if
she knew what he was suffering for her sake.

"At any rate, Pierre saw that his cousin
was deeply mortified by the whole tenor of
his behaviour during their walk home. When
they arrived at Madame Babette's, Virginie
fell fainting on the floor; her strength had
but just sufficed for this exertion of reaching
the shelter of the house. Her first sign of
restoring consciousness consisted in
avoidance of Morin. He had been most assiduous
in his efforts to bring her round; quite
tender in his way, Pierre said; and this
marked, instinctive repugnance to him
evidently gave him extreme pain. I suppose
Frenchmen are more demonstrative than we
are; for Pierre declared that he saw his
cousin's eyes fill with tears, as she shrank
away from his touch, if he tried to arrange
the shawl they had laid under her head like a
pillow, or as she shut her eyes when he
passed before her. Madame Babette was
urgent with her to go and lie down on the
bed in the inner room; but it was some time
before she was strong enough to rise and do
this.

"When Madame Babette returned from
arranging the girl comfortably, the three
relations sate down in silence; a silence
which Pierre thought would never be broken.
He wanted his mother to ask his cousin what
had happened. But Madame Babette was
afraid of her nephew, and thought it more
discreet to wait for such crumbs of intelli–
gence as he might think fit to throw at her.
But, after she had twice reported Virginie to
be asleep, without a word being uttered in
reply to her whispers by either of her
companions, Morin's powers of self–containrneut
gave way.

"'It is hard hard!'he said.
"'What is hard?' asked Madame
Babbette, after she had paused for a time, to
to enable him to add to, or to finish, his
sentence, if he pleased.

"'It is hard for a man to love a woman as
I do,' he went on. 'I did not seek to love
her, it came upon me before I was aware—
before I had ever thought about it at all, I
loved her better than all the world beside.
All my life before I knew her seems a dull
blank. I neither know nor care for what I
did before then. And now there are just
two lives before me. Either I have her, or I
have not. That is all: but that is everything.
And what can I do to make her have me I
Tell me, aunt,' and he caught at Madame
Babette's arm, and gave it so sharp a shake,
that she half screamed out, Pierre said, and
evidently grew alarmed at her nephew's
have excitement.

"'Hush, Victor!' said she. 'There are
other women in the world, if this one will
not have you.'

"'None other for me,' he said, sinking
back as if hopeless. 'I am plain and coarse,
and one of the scented darling of the aristocracts.