"Don't be astonished, but the Baron de Macumer is here, and, indeed, it is on that account I brought you with me." No reply from Griffith. "What would you have with me?" said Felipe, in a tone of such agitation that it was easy to see he was driven beside himself by the noise, slight as it was, of our dresses in the silence of the night and of our steps upon the gravel. "I want to say to you what I could not write," I replied. Griffith withdrew a few steps. It was one of those mild nights, when the air is heavy with the scent of flowers. My head swam with the intoxicating delight of finding myself all but alone with him in the friendly shade of the lime-trees, beyond which lay the garden, shining all the more brightly because the white facade of the house reflected the moonlight. The contrast seemed, as it were, an emblem of our clandestine love leading up to the glaring publicity of a wedding. Neither of us could do more at first than drink in silently the ecstasy of a moment, as new and marvelous for him as for me. At last I found tongue to say, pointing to the elm-tree: "Although I am not afraid of scandal, you shall not climb that tree again. We have long enough played schoolboy and schoolgirl, let us rise now to the height of our destiny. Had that fall killed you, I should have died disgraced . . ." I looked at him. Every scrap of color had left his face. "And if you had been found there, suspicion would have attached either to my mother or to me . . ." "Forgive me," he murmured. "If you walk along the boulevard, I shall hear your step; and when I want to see you, I will open my window. But I would not run such a risk unless some emergency arose. Why have you forced me by your rash act to commit another, and one which may lower me in your eyes?" The tears which I saw in his eyes were to me the most eloquent of answers. "What I have done to-night," I went on with a smile, "must seem to you the height of madness . . ." After we had walked up and down in silence more than once, he recovered composure enough to say: "You must think me a fool; and, indeed, the delirium of my joy has