stage which appeared very high and loaded with
trunks. A fisherman passed by. The postman asked
him:
"Will you please tell us where the house of Madame Le Gannec is?" "It is in front of you," answered the fisherman, who indicated the house with a motion of hand and continued on his way.
I grew very pale . . . and I saw by the light of the lantern a small gloved hand resting on the handle of the stage door.
"Juliette! Juliette!" I shouted like a madman. "Mother Le Gannec, it's Juliette! . . . Quick, quick . . . it's Juliette!"
Running, tumbling down the stairway, I dashed to the street: "Juliette! My Juliette!"
Arms embraced me, lips pressed against my cheek, a voice breathed in my ears:
"Jean! My dear little Jean!"
And I swooned into the arms of Juliette.
It did not take me long to regain my senses, however. They put me to bed and Juliette, bent over me, embraced me, crying:
"Ah! Poor little thing. How you frightened me! How pale you still are! Is it all over, tell me? Speak to me, my Jean!"
I did nothing but look at her. It seemed as though my whole being, inert and rigid, smitten by a powerful blow, by some great suffering or happiness I did not know which had brought back and crowded into my glance all the life forces leaving me, dripping from my limbs, my veins, my heart, my brains. . . . I was looking at her! She was still beautiful, a little paler than in the past, but on the whole the same as ever, with her beautiful, sweet eyes, her lovely mouth, her deliciously childish voice. In her countenance, her gestures, the movements of her body, her words I
