"I shall pass the night on a chair."
"Nonsense!" said Canolles. "I certainly shall not allow any such child's play; come, viscount, come!"
As the fire on the hearth blazed up for an instant before dying altogether, Canolles caught sight of the viscount crouching in a corner between the window and the commode, wrapped in his cloak.
The blaze was no more than a flash; but it was sufficient to guide the baron and to make the viscount understand that he was lost. Canolles walked straight toward him with arms outstretched, and although the room was dark once more, the poor fellow realized that he could not again elude his pursuer.
"Baron! baron!" he faltered; "come no nearer, I implore you; not a step nearer, if you are a gentleman!"
Canolles stopped; the viscount was so near him that he could hear his heart beat, and could feel his warm breath coming in gasps; at the same time a delicious, intoxicating perfume, a blending of all the perfumes which emanate from youth and beauty, a perfume ten thousand times sweeter than that of the sweetest flowers, seemed to envelop him and make it impossible for him to obey the viscount, even had he desired to do so.
However, he stood for an instant where he was, his hands stretched out toward those other hands, which were ready to repulse him, and with the feeling that he had but to take one step more to touch that charming body, whose suppleness and grace he had so much admired during the last two days.
"Mercy! mercy!" murmured the viscount; "mercy!"
His voice died away upon his lips and Canolles felt his body glide by the curtains of the window and fall at his feet.