for her whenever she should give the word. And the thought made
her smile. At that moment, if he had been there, in that room,
at her side, it may be she would not have sent him away.




XV

Jean hurried down the lane and started off across country in
such a state of high exaltation as robbed him of all senses of
realities and banished all consciousness whether of joy or pain.
He had no remembrance of what he had been before the moment when
he kissed the actress's hand; he seemed a stranger to himself.
On his lips lingered a taste that stirred voluptuous fancies,
and grew stronger as he pressed them one against the other.

Next morning his intoxication was dissipated and he relapsed
into profound depression. He told himself that his last chance
was gone. He realized that the gate overhung with wild vine and
ivy was shut against him by that careless, capricious hand more
firmly and more inexorably than ever it could have been by the
bolts and bars of the most prudish virtue. He felt instinctively
that his kiss had stirred no promptings of desire, that he had
been powerless to win any hold on his mistress's senses.

He had forgotten what he said, but he knew that he had spoken
out in all the frank sincerity of his heart. He had exposed his
ignorance of the world, his contemptible candour. The mischief
was irreparable. Could anyone be more unfortunate? He had lost