"What are you doing?" I exclaimed.

"I am burning a letter I had written to you," she answered. "I wanted
to make you listen to reason, but it is quite useless; one cannot reason
with brutes."

"Give me that letter at once," I cried, rushing at her to seize the
burning paper.

But she withdrew it quickly and, fearlessly extinguishing it in her
hand, threw the candle at my feet and fled in the darkness. I ran after
her, but in vain. She was in her room before I could get there, and
had slammed the door and drawn the bolts. I could hear the voice of
Mademoiselle Leblanc asking her young mistress the cause of her fright.

"It is nothing," replied Edmee's trembling voice, "nothing but a joke."

I went into the garden, and strode up and down the walks at a furious
rate. My anger gave place to the most profound melancholy. Edmee, proud
and daring, seemed to me more desirable than ever. It is the nature of
all desire to be excited and nourished by opposition. I felt that I had
offended her, and that she did not love me, that perhaps she would never
love me; and, without abandoning my criminal resolution to make her mine
by force, I gave way to grief at the thought of her hatred of me. I
went and leaned upon a gloomy old wall which happened to be near, and,
burying my face in my hands, I broke into heart-rending sobs. My sturdy
breast heaved convulsively, but tears would not bring the relief I
longed for. I could have roared in my anguish, and I had to bite my
handkerchief to prevent myself from yielding to the temptation. The