"Far from all recollection of the past, and only new times ahead of us!"
He felt deeply affected. Their two hands joined, and pressed one another instinctively. Then came a pause, both Séverine and Jacques being rapt in this hope. It was she who broke the silence.
"All the same, it would be best for you to see your friend again before his departure, and ask him not to take a partner without letting you know," she suggested.
Once more he was surprised.
"What is the use of that?" he inquired.
"Good heavens! Who knows?" she answered. "The other day, with that locomotive! Another second and I was free. One is alive in the morning, and dead at night. Is it not true?"
Looking at him fixedly, she repeated:
"Ah! if he were only dead!"
"But you don't want me to kill him, do you?" he inquired, trying to smile.
Thrice she answered no; but her eyes said yes—those eyes of a tender-hearted woman, who had abandoned herself to the inexorable cruelty of her passion. As he had killed another, why should not he be killed himself? This idea had abruptly begun to assert itself as a consequence of the crime, a necessary termination to the difficulty. Kill him and go away: nothing could be more simple. When he was once dead, everything would be over, and she could begin again. She saw no other solution possible, and her resolution was irrevocably taken; but, not having the courage of her violence, she continued, in slightly wavering tones, to say no.