down all other passions; scarcely a trace of them remained in me. I was
sober; if not gentle and patient, I was at least capable of affection
and sympathy; I had a profound sense of the laws of honour, and the
highest respect for the dignity of others. Love, however, was still the
most formidable of my enemies; for it was inseparably connected with all
that I had acquired of morality and delicacy; it was the tie that
bound the old man to the new, an indissoluble tie, which made it almost
impossible for me to find the golden mean between reason and passion.

Standing before Edmee, who was about to leave me behind and on foot;
furious at seeing her escape me for the last time (since after the
insult I had just offered her she would doubtless never run the risk of
being alone with me again), I gazed on her with a terrible expression.
I was livid; my fists were clinched. I had but to resolve, and the
slightest exertion of my strength would have snatched her from her
horse, thrown her to the ground and left her at the mercy of my desires.
I had but to let my old savage instincts reign for a second and I could
have slaked, extinguished the fires which had been consuming me for
seven years. Never did Edmee know the danger her honour ran in that
minute of agony, and never have I ceased to feel remorse for it; but
God alone shall be my Judge, for I triumphed, and this was the last
evil thought of my life. In this thought, moreover, lay the whole of my
crime; the rest was the work of fate.

Filled with fear, I suddenly turned my back on her and, wringing
my hands in despair, hastened away by the path which had brought me
thither. I cared little where I went; I only knew that I had to tear
myself away from perilous temptations. It was a broiling day; the odour
of the woods seemed intoxicating; the mere sight of them was stirring
up the instincts of my old savage life; I had to flee or fall. With an