"What, Monsieur Abbe," I exclaimed, "she gave you a kiss?"

"Be sure, my boy, that in my place you would have had one too--that
is to say, if you, as I did, seized the opportunity. I believe I
told you that I held the damsel in close embrace. She tried to fly
from me, she suppressed her screams, she murmured groans. 'For
heaven's sake, leave me! It begins to be light, a moment more and I
am lost.' Her fears, her fright, her danger--who could be barbarous
enough not to be affected by them? I am not inhuman. I gave her
freedom at the price of a kiss, which she gave me quickly. On my
word, I never enjoyed a more delicious one."

At this part of his tale, my dear tutor, raising his nose to sniff a
pinch of snuff, became aware of my confusion and pain, which he
thought to be utter astonishment, and continued to say:

"Jacques Tournebroche, all that remains for me to tell will astonish
you still more. To my regret I let the pretty girl go, but curiosity
tempted me to follow her. I went down the stairs after her, saw her
cross the lobby, go out by a little door opening on the fields in
the direction where the park extends farthest, and run up the lane.
I followed swiftly. I was quite sure that she would not go far,
dressed as a pierrot and wearing a night-cap. She took the path
wherein the mandrakes dwell. My curiosity doubled, and I followed
her up to Mosaide's lodge. At this moment the hideous Jew appeared
at a window in his dressing-gown and monstrous headgear, like one of
those figures who show themselves at the stroke of noon, outside
those old clocks more Gothic and more ridiculous than the churches
wherein they are kept, for the enjoyment of the yokels and the