"The souvenir is in my heart, the hair will never leave my bosom! We
live in an unworthy age. I can not boast of wearing your colors in
everybody's eyes, and yet I should like to wear a sign of my bondage."

She let her hair fall down her back again, but seemed embarrassed as to
how to execute his wish.

"I can not cut my hair with my teeth," she said, with a smile which
betrayed a double row of pearls.

Octave took a stiletto from his pocket.

"Why do you always carry this stiletto?" asked the young woman, in a
changed voice; "it frightens me to see you armed thus."

"Fear nothing," said Gerfaut, who did not reply to her question, "I will
respect the hair which serves you as a crown. I know where I must cut
it, and, if my ambition is great, my hand shall be discreet."

Madame de Bergenheim had no confidence in his moderation, and, fearing to
leave her beautiful hair to her lover's mercy, she took the stiletto and
cut off a little lock which she drew through her fingers and then offered
to him, with a loving gesture that doubled the value of the gift. At
this moment, hunting-horns resounded in the distance.

"I must leave you now!" exclaimed Clemence, "I must. My dear love, let
me go now; say good-by to me."

She leaned toward him and presented her forehead to receive this adieu.