See! look at me. I am alive,
I am well, I am happy. I told Rose that I suffered. If I had suffered
I should remember it. It is all gone at sight of you, my love! my love!
Oh, my Josephine! my love!"
His arm was firm round her waist. His glowing eyes poured love upon her.
She felt his beating heart.
All that passed in her then, what mortal can say? She seemed two women:
that part of her which could not get away from his strong arm lost all
strength to resist, it yielded and thrilled under his embrace, her bosom
heaving madly: all that was free writhed away from him; her face was
averted with a glare of terror, and both her hands put up between his
eyes and it.
"You turn away your head. Rose, she turns away. Speak for me. Scold her;
for I don't know how to scold her. No answer from either; oh, what has
turned your hearts against me so?"
"Camille," cried Rose--the tears streaming down her cheeks--"my poor
Camille! leave Beaurepaire. Oh, leave it at once."
Returned towards her with a look of inquiry.
At that Josephine, like some feeble but nimble wild creature on whom
a grasp has relaxed, writhed away from him and got free: "Farewell!
Farewell!" she cried, in despair's own voice, and made swiftly for the
house.
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