"Risler, my friend," she would say, "you must come down into the garden a
while,--you work too hard. You will be ill."

"No, no, Madame,--on the contrary, work is what saves me. It keeps me
from thinking."

Then, after a long pause, she would continue:

"Come, my dear Risler, you must try to forget."

Risler would shake his head.

"Forget? Is that possible? There are some things beyond one's strength.
A man may forgive, but he never forgets."

The child almost always succeeded in dragging him down to the garden.
He must play ball, or in the sand, with her; but her playfellow's
awkwardness and lack of enthusiasm soon impressed the little girl. Then
she would become very sedate, contenting herself with walking gravely
between the hedges of box, with her hand in her friend's. After a moment
Risler would entirely forget that she was there; but, although he did not
realize it, the warmth of that little hand in his had a magnetic,
softening effect upon his diseased mind.

A man may forgive, but he never forgets!

Poor Claire herself knew something about it; for she had never forgotten,
notwithstanding her great courage and the conception she had formed of
her duty. To her, as to Risler; her surroundings were a constant
reminder of her sufferings. The objects amid which she lived pitilessly