“Bending over the iron railing I whispered my grief, which she probably never heard, and I turned to leave, when I caught sight of a woman in deep mourning kneeling beside a neighbouring grave. Her crape veil was thrown back, disclosing her pretty, fair hair, which seemed in its bands to be illumined under the darkness of her hat. I forgot to leave.
“She seemed bowed with sorrow. She had buried her face in her hands, and rigid as a statue in meditation, lost in deep regrets, she was living over torturing memories and seemed herself a corpse mourning a corpse. Presently I saw that she was beginning to weep, for I could see a convulsive movement of her back like the rustle of the wind in the willows. She cried gently at first, then more violently with a rapid motion of her back and shoulders. Suddenly she uncovered her face. Her eyes, brimming with tears, were charming. For a moment she gazed around as if awakening from a nightmare. She saw me looking at her and quickly hid her face again, greatly abashed. Now, with convulsive sobs she bent her head slowly over the tombstone. She rested her forehead against it, and her veil, falling around her, covered the whiteness of the beloved sepulchre with a dark shroud. I heard her moan and then saw her fall to the ground in a faint.
“I rushed to her side and began slapping her hands and breathing on her temples, while reading this simple inscription on the tombstone:
“ ‘Here lies Louis Théodore Carrel Captain in the Marine Infantry, killed by the enemy in Tonkin. Pray for his soul.’
“This death was dated a few months back. I was moved almost to tears, and renewed my efforts to revive the poor girl. At last she came to. I looked deeply moved.—I am not so bad-looking, and I am not forty.—Her very first glance showed me that she was likely to be grateful for my care. Between sobs she told me of her marriage to the officer who had been killed in Tonkin within a year after their wedding. He had married her for love, she being an orphan and possessing just barely enough for the usual dowry.
“I consoled her, comforted her, and assisted her to her feet, saying:
“ ‘You must not stay here. Come away.’
“ ‘I am unable to walk,’ she whispered.
“ ‘Let me help you,’ I said.
“ ‘Thank you, you are very kind,’ she murmured. ‘Did you also come to mourn someone?’
“ ‘Yes, Madame.’
“ ‘A woman?’
“ ‘Yes, Madame.’
“ ‘Your wife?’
“ ‘A friend.’
“ ‘One may love a friend just as much as a wife, for passion knows no law,’ said the lady.
“ ‘Yes, Madame,’ I replied.
“And so we left the spot together, she leaning on me and I almost carrying her through the alleys. As we came out, she murmured:
“ ‘I’m afraid that I’m going to faint.’
“ ‘Wouldn’t you like to take something, Madame?’ I inquired.
“ ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I would.’
“I discovered a restaurant near at hand, where the friends of the dead gather to celebrate the end of their painful duty. We went in, and I made her drink a cup of hot tea, which appeared to give her renewed strength.
“A faint smile dawned on her lips and she began telling me about herself: how terrible it was to go through life all alone, to be alone at home day and night, to have no one on whom to lavish love, confidence, and intimacy.
“It all seemed sincere and sounded well coming from her. I was softened. She was very young, perhaps twenty. I paid her several compliments that appeared to please her, and as it was growing dark I offered to take her home in a cab. She accepted. In the carriage we were so close to each other that we could feel the warmth of our bodies through our clothing, which really is the most intoxicating thing in the world.
“When the cab stopped in front of her home she said:
“ ‘I hardly feel able to walk upstairs, for I live on the fourth floor. You have already been so kind, that I am going to ask you to assist me to my apartment.’
“I consented gladly. She walked up slowly, breathing heavily at each step. In front of her door she added:
“ ‘Do come in for a few minutes, so that I can thank you again for your kindness.’
“And I, of course, followed her.
“Her apartment was modest, even a trifle poor, but well-kept and in good taste.
“We sat down side by side on a small divan, and she again began to speak of her loneliness.
“Then she rang for the maid, so as to offer me some refreshments. But the girl failed to appear, and I joyfully concluded that this maid probably came only in the morning, and was a sort of charwoman.
“She had taken off her hat. How pretty she was! Her clear eyes looked steadily at me, so clear and so steady that a great temptation came to me, to which I promptly yielded. Clasping her in my arms, I kissed her again and again on her half-closed lids.
“She repelled me, struggling to free herself and repeating:
“ ‘Do stop—Stop, please. Stop!’
“What did she mean to imply by this word? Under such conditions, to ‘stop’ could have at least two meanings. In order to silence her, I passed from her eyes to her lips, and gave to the word ‘stop’ the conclusion I preferred. She did not resist very much, and as our eyes met after this insult to the memory of the departed captain, I saw that her expression was one of tender resignation, which quickly dispelled my misgivings.
“Then I grew attentive and gallant. After an hour’s chat I asked her:
“ ‘Where do you dine?’
“ ‘In a small restaurant near by.’
“ ‘All alone?’
“ ‘Why, yes.
“ ‘Will you take dinner with me?’
“ ‘Where?’
“ ‘In a good restaurant on the Boulevard.’
“She hesitated a little, but at last consented, consoling herself with the
