She went on her knees before him⁠—there in the open road⁠—like a madwoman. He retreated a step, but she caught his hand and kissed it, and, just as in his dream, the tears were sparkling on her long, beautiful lashes.

“Get up!” he said, in a frightened whisper, raising her. “Get up at once!”

“Are you happy⁠—are you happy?” she asked. “Say this one word. Are you happy now? Today, this moment? Have you just been with her? What did she say?”

She did not rise from her knees; she would not listen to him; she put her questions hurriedly, as though she were pursued.

“I am going away tomorrow, as you bade me⁠—I won’t write⁠—so that this is the last time I shall see you, the last time! This is really the last time !”

“Oh, be calm⁠—be calm! Get up!” he entreated, in despair.