"Well, then?"

At last Joseph stops walking, and, gazing at me with profound and still suspicious, but yet tenderer, eyes, he says, slowly:

<«It is not that, Celestine. There is no question of that. I do not prevent you from reflecting. Reflect all you like. There is plenty of time, and we will talk again on my return. But what I do not like, you see, is so much curiosity. There are things that do not concern women; there are things" . . .

And he finishes his phrase with a shake of his head.

After a moment's silence he resumes:

" I have nothing else in mind, Celestine. I dream of you; I am crazy over you. As true as the good God exists, what I have said once I say always. We will talk it over again. But you must not be curious. You do what you do ; I do what I do. In that way there is no mistake, no surprise."

Approaching me, he grasps my hands.

" I have a hard head, Celestine; yes, indeed! But what is in it stays in it, and cannot be gotten out of it. I dream of you, Celestine, of you ... in the l