He had spoken with the concentrated energy of a man who has sworn to carry out what he has in his mind. Mad as the proposal seemed in the eyes of a woman accustomed only to such forms of passion as are compatible with the laws and usages of social life, Suzanne did not hesitate for a moment. René had spoken in all sincerity, but in doing so had given proofs of such deep-rooted affection that she had no doubt as to her final triumph over the rebellious and mad schemes of the poet.

'How good you are to talk to me like that!' she replied with a thrill of joy. 'How you love me! How you love me!' In uttering these words she hung her head a little, as if the happiness brought her by these proofs were almost too much to bear. 'God! how sweet this is!' she murmured.

Then, approaching him once more, she took his hand, almost timidly this time, and held it tightly clasped in her own.

'Child that you are, what is it you offer me? If it were only a question touching myself, how gladly I would say, "Take all my life," and deserve little praise for doing so! But how can I accept the sacrifice of yours? You are twenty-five years old and I am more than thirty. Close your eyes, and look at us in ten years' time. I shall be an old woman, whilst you will still be a young man. What then? And what about your work—that art to which you are so attached that it makes me quite jealous? Why should I hide it from you now? You must be in Paris to be able to write. I should see you pining away beside me. I should see you, an unwilling slave, bestowing affection upon me out of pity and from a sense of duty. No—I could not bear it! My love, lay aside this mad plan and say that you forgive me without it—say it, René, I implore you!'

Whilst speaking she had nestled closer to the poet, and now hung her arms about his neck, seeking his lips with hers. An intense desire to fold her in his arms came over him, but it was drowned in the disgust he felt at her lasciviousness.

Seizing her by the wrist, he flung her from him, shouting in his fury, 'Then you refuse to come—tell me once more you refuse to come!'

'René, I entreat you,' she went on, with tears in her voice and in her eyes, 'do not cast me off! Since we love each other, let us be happy. Take me as I am, with all the wretchedness of my life. It is true—I love luxury, I love gaiety, I love the Paris you hate. I shall never have the courage to break my bonds and give all this up. Take me for what I am, now that you know all, now that you feel I am speaking the truth when I swear I love you as I have never loved before. Keep me! I will be your slave, your thing! When you call me, I will come. When you drive me away, I will go. Do not look at me with such eyes, I implore you—let your heart be softened! When you came to me, did I ask you whether you had another mistress? No; I had but one wish—to make you happy. Can you reproach me for having kept all the misery of my life from you? Look at me—I kneel before you and beseech you——'

She had, indeed, thrown herself at his feet. She took no heed of prudence now, nor of the possibility of a servant entering the room. Clinging to his garments, she dragged herself about on her knees. Never had she looked so beautiful as when, with eyes aglow and her face burning with all the fire of passion, she at length laid aside the mask and proclaimed herself the sublime courtesan she had always been. René's senses were in a state of wild commotion, but a cruel reminiscence flashed across his brain, and he flung his words at her with an insulting sneer—

'And what about Desforges?'

'Don't speak of him,' she moaned, 'don't think of him! If I could get rid of him or forbid him the house, do you think I should hesitate? Don't you understand what a hold he has upon me? My God! My God! It is not right to torture a woman like this! No,' she added, in a dull, despairing tone, still on her knees, but now immovable and with hanging head, 'no, I can bear it no longer!'