sacrificial kiss--and bearing in her heart such an unutterable load
of woe!

Adolphe had gone out of the house before her; but standing in the
stable yard, well within the gate so that she should not see him, he
watched her slowly crossing the bridge and mounting the first flight
of the steps. He had often seen her tripping up those stairs, and
had, almost as often, followed her with his quicker feet. And she,
when she would hear him, would run; and then he would catch her
breathless at the top, and steal kisses from her when all power of
refusing them had been robbed from her by her efforts at escape.
There was no such running now, no such following, no thought of such
kisses.

As for him, he would fain have skulked off and shirked the interview
had he dared. But he did not dare; so he waited there, out of heart,
for some ten minutes, speaking a word now and then to the bath-man,
who was standing by, just to show that he was at his ease. But the
bath-man knew that he was not at his ease. Such would-be lies as
those rarely achieve deception;--are rarely believed. And then, at
the end of the ten minutes, with steps as slow as Marie's had been,
he also ascended to the grotto.

Marie had watched him from the top, but so that she herself should
not be seen. He however had not once lifted up his head to look for
her; but with eyes turned to the ground had plodded his way up to the
cave. When he entered she was standing in the middle, with her eyes
downcast and her hands clasped before her. She had retired some way
from the wall, so that no eyes might possibly see her but those of
her false lover. There she stood when he entered, striving to stand