"Tell me----" Her down-bent neck unfolds, and she lifts her head to
speak. At that moment, by the light of the flame that I hold, whose
great revealing kindness I am guarding, our eyes fall on an inscription
scratched in the wall--a heart--and inside it two initials, H-S. Ah,
that design was made by me one evening. Little Helen was lolling there
then, and I thought I adored her. For a moment I am overpowered by
this apparition of a mistake, bygone and forgotten. Marie does not
know; but seeing those initials, and divining a presence between us,
she dare not speak.

As the match is on the point of going out I throw it down. The little
flame's last flicker has lighted up for me the edge of the poor black
serge skirt, so worn that it shines a little, even in the evening, and
has shown me the girl's shoe. There is a hole in the heel of the
stocking, and we have both seen it. In quick shame, Marie draws her
foot under her skirt; and I--I tremble still more that my eyes have
touched a little of her maiden flesh, a fragment of her real innocence.

Gently she stands up in the grayness, and puts an end to this first
fate-changing meeting.

We return. The obscurity is outstretched all around and against us.
Together and alone we go into the following chambers of the night. My
eyes follow the sway of her body in her dress against the vaguely
luminous background of the wall. Amid the night her dress is night
also; she is there--wholly! There is a singing in my ears; an anthem
fills the world.

In the street, where there are no more wayfarers, she walks on the edge
of the causeway. So that my face may be on a level with hers, I walk