‘We must be pure and brave, you say,’ she continued, and her face, grown old and tragic, became now pale as death; ‘but you never said that before to-night. You fill me with horror! Go away, far away, and go at once, so that to-morrow I can wake up without the terror of expecting you and being humiliated like this again.’

‘O God, O God!’ he groaned, bending over her, but she repulsed him sharply.

‘Do you think you are speaking to a child?’ she burst out now: ‘I am old, and it is you who have made me grow old in a few hours. The straight path of life! Oh, yes, it would be going straight if we continued this secret intrigue, wouldn’t it? I should find myself a husband and you should marry me to him, and then we could go on seeing each other, you and I, and deceiving every one for the rest of our lives. Oh, you don’t know me if that is your idea! Last night you said, “Let us away, we will get married and I will work.” Didn’t you say that? Didn’t you? But to-night you come and talk to me instead about God and sacrifice. So now there is an end of it all: we will part. But you, I say it again, you must leave the village this very night, I never wish to see you again. If to-morrow morning you go once more into our church to say Mass I shall go there too, and from the altar steps I shall say to the people: “This is your saint, who works miracles by day and by night goes to unprotected girls to seduce them!” ’

He tried in vain to shut her mouth with his hand, and as she kept on crying aloud, ‘Go, go!’ he seized her head and pressed it to his breast, glancing with alarm at the closed doors. And he remembered his mother’s words and her voice, mysterious in the darkness: ‘The old priest sat beside me and said, “I will soon turn both you and your son out of the parish.” ’

‘Agnes, Agnes, you are mad!’ he groaned, his lips close to her ear, whilst she struggled fiercely to escape from him: ‘Be calm, listen to me. Nothing is lost; don’t you feel how I love you? A thousand times more than before! And I am not going away, I am going to stay near you, to save you, to offer up my soul to you as I shall offer it up to God in the hour of death. How can you know all that I have suffered between last night and now? I fled and I bore you with me: I fled like one who is on fire and who thinks by fleeing to escape the flames, which only envelop him the more. Where have I not been to-day, what have I not done to keep myself from coming back to you? Yet here I am, Agnes, and how could I not be here? … Do you hear me? I shall not betray you, I shall not forget you, I do not wish to forget you! But, Agnes, we must keep ourselves unsoiled, we must keep our love for all eternity, we must unite it with all that is best in life, with renunciation, with death itself, that is to say, with God. Do you understand, Agnes? Yes, tell me that you understand!’