PART IV
CHAPTER I
I MUST now recite what happened to my love, and the change that took
place in me. What reason can I give for it? None, except as I repeat the
story and as I say: "It is the truth."
For two days, neither more nor less, I was Madame Pierson's lover. One
fine night, I set out and traversed the road that led to her house. I was
feeling so well in body and soul, that I leaped for joy and extended my
arms to heaven. I found her at the top of the stairway, leaning on the
railing, a lighted candle beside her. She was waiting for me and when she
saw me ran to meet me.
She showed me how she had changed her coiffure which had displeased me,
and told me how she had passed the day arranging her hair to suit my
taste; how she had taken down a villainous black picture frame that had
offended my eye; how she had renewed the flowers; she recounted all she
had done since she had known me, how she had seen me suffer and how she
had suffered herself; how she had thought of leaving the country, of
fleeing from her love; how she had employed every precaution against me;
how she had sought advice from her aunt, from Mercanson and from the
cure; how she had vowed to herself that she would die rather than yield,
and how all that had been dissipated by a single word of mine, a glance,
an incident; and with every confession, a kiss.
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