not the less significant. Not long after they had all separated,
just so long as to allow of the house being quiet, Adolphe, still
sitting in his room, meditating on what the day had done for him,
heard a low tap at his door. "Come in," he said, as men always do
say; and Marie opening the door, stood just within the verge of his
chamber. She had on her countenance neither the soft look of
entreating love which she had worn up there in the grotto, nor did
she appear crushed and subdued as she had done before his mother.
She carried her head somewhat more erect than usual, and looked
boldly out at him from under her soft eyelashes. There might still
be love there, but it was love proudly resolving to quell itself.
Adolphe, as he looked at her, felt that he was afraid of her.

"It is all over then between us, M. Adolphe?" she said.

"Well, yes. Don't you think it had better be so, eh, Marie?"

"And this is the meaning of oaths and vows, sworn to each other so
sacredly?"

"But, Marie, you heard what my mother said."

"Oh, sir! I have not come to ask you again to love me. Oh no! I am
not thinking of that. But this, this would be a lie if I kept it
now; it would choke me if I wore it as that man's wife. Take it
back;" and she tendered to him the little charm which she had always
worn round her neck since he had given it to her. He took it
abstractedly, without thinking what he did, and placed it on his
dressing-table.