which completed the intoxication of the artist.
He had suddenly fallen in love, he could not have said with whom. This woman, whom he supposed to be pretty because she was richly and elegantly dressed, had just made a claim upon his chivalrous sentiments, by falling asleep near to him without showing the slightest fear, and he dared not abuse her confidence.
And yet, it was not good-will that was wanting in him.
“Ah bah!” said he to himself, “I should be a great fool to go on acting like a timid school-boy. I am certain that the lady would not fail to laugh at me to-morrow morning.”
After having vainly troubled his brains to find a means of galvanizing the lovely sleeper, Brandon ended by employing the vulgar dodge, familiar to libertines who are getting old, and to unmannerly rakes and to timid lovers.
He slowly approached his foot to the lady's boot and gently touched it…
The lady did not budge.
Brandon pushed a little harder, he had even the audacity to slightly caress the tip of the foot of the fair sleeper. It seemed as if she had suddenly become petrified, for she made no movement to avoid the attack of her fellow-traveler.
Little by little the painter had become excited; his brain was on fire, his heart was throbbing, and he was shaken by furious desire…
He could no longer be mistaken, the lady was encouraging him by not resisting his amorous enterprises.
Carrying audacity to its utmost limits, Brandon tenderly pressed between his two feet the delicate ankle of the lady. He was about to lean forward towards her to take her hand, when she suddenly lifted her head, and said to him in a bantering tone:
“I should much like to know, Sir, why you persist in crushing my toes?”
The painter was for a moment silent, then taking courage, he replied:
“Because this is the most eloquent means I can employ to make known my sentiments to a pretty woman who pretends to be asleep.”
“And what sentiments, pray! can I inspire you with? You have never seen me.”
“My heart does not require the aid of my eyes to guess that you are as charming as witty.
“Granted; I am charming and possess much wit; what do you conclude therefrom?”
“Oh! Madam!” said Brandon, all on fire at once, “I do not believe, ever to have experienced in all my life, such exquisite sensations… You are an enchantress.”
At the same time he seized the hand of the fair unknown and imprinted on her wrist several ardent kisses…
The artist felt an unspeakable joy in noting the slight start she made, anticipating that she was about to give way to him…
But suddenly, releasing her arm by a sharp movement, the lady said to him in a severe tone:
“Cease, Sir, I command you. I wanted to see how far your audacity would venture. I know now. I consent to forgive your insulting enterprises, but on one condition; that you go back to the corner you at first occupied when you entered his carriage.”
“No!” replied Brandon, forcibly, for he was so excited that he was no longer master of himself. “I feel myself attracted to you so irresistibly, that I will hesitate before no consideration, before no danger to make you accept my homage…”
“Is it possible… such language to me?…
“It is that of a man madly in love… we are alone., no one will ever know what has taken place here, it is a minute of divine intoxication that we steal from heaven and the voluptuous remembrance of which will be the delight of our life… Give way to my prayers, I conjure you! Do not transform these instants of happiness into a barbarous struggle… Love me as I love you.”… Brandon had rushed towards the lady, he again seized her hand, and suddenly pulling aside her cloak, he implanted two burning kisses on her neck…
“Sir, Sir, I implore you…” murmured the fair traveler in a dying voice, the precursor of her defeat. “It is abominable of you to thus take advantage of my situation…”
“I love you! I love you!” cried the artist in the acme of excitement as he furiously pressed the unknown in his arms.
He would probably have triumphed over her last resistance when the speed of the train was suddenly slackened.
At once the railway porters ran along the platforms, shouting:
“Crewe! Crewe! Stop here ten minutes…
The doors flew open and most of the travellers hastened to get out.
Nothing can give an idea of the consternation depicted on Brandon's face at finding his amorous enterprises interrupted by the stoppage of the train. In a few seconds, ten different fears had crossed his mind.
The lady, having recovered her presence of mind, might henceforth keep him at a distance, claim the protection of the railway officials or change her carriage.
Other travellers might enter their compartment…
It was in fact this which was very nearly taking place.
A stout man, his head buried in a fur cap, and with his rug on his arm, got on to the step and was about to enter the compartment occupied by the artist. The latter, his face purple and his eyes glaring, stood suddenly before the intruder.
“Where are you going?” said he angrily.
“Why here!” said the traveler, astonished.
“There s no room.”
“I beg your pardon, I see only you and a lady in this compartment.
“I repeat to you, all the places are taken,” rejoined the painter boldly… “A family of six persons has just got down… Here they are, coming back…”
Brandon pointed at the same time to a family who were hastening up.
The stout gentleman made a gesture of annoyance, and hurried away grumbling.
The painter gave a sigh of relief, as he quickly closed the door, behind which he kept until the train had started again.
Delivered from his fears, Brandon hastened back to the side of the lady.
“Ah! Madam!” said he, putting his hand to his heart, “what anguish I have just gone through!”
“How so?” asked the lady, artfully.
“This man who was on the point of interposing himself between us… I saw the moment when it would have been necessary to renounce…!”
“Renounce what?” said the fair traveler.
“The happiness of embracing you, life of my soul…”
The artist sat down next to the lady, and, passing his arm round her waist, said to her:
“I implore of you, my angel, to let me contemplate those heavenly features I so burn to portray.”
“Do not count upon that, Sir.”
“But why? Oh! why?” The fair traveler again disengaged herself, and turning upon Brandon eyes which glistened like burning coals beneath her veil, she said to him in a hesitating tone:
“Promise me not to seek to see my features, and I may perhaps be weak enough to give way to your entreaties…”
“Are you then married?”
“What can it concern you? You will never meet me again, and the memory of me will soon be effaced from your mind like a dream…”
Brandon, in the paroxysm of desire, promised all the lady demanded.
“When we get to Glasgow,” she said to Brandon, “we shall separate, never more to see each other; such is my will; do not make me repent of my weakness…
“I love you! I love you to distraction!” exclaimed the artist with vehemence, “and now that you have half opened to me the gates of Heaven, you must be mine for ever! Come, adorable mistress, no longer hide from me thy divine features, for surely art thou a celestial creature…
At the same moment the painter seized hold of the corner of the veil hiding the features of the fair traveler,
