lost to me. . . . On Sundays I used to loiter at the railway stations where I mingled with the merry crowds, among petty officials and workingmen leaving town with their families to get a little fresh air for their affected lungs, to gather a little strength to be able to withstand the fatigue of their work during the week. I followed the steps of some laborer whose face interested me ; I would have liked to possess his bent back, his deformed hands turned brown through hard work, his stiff walk, his trusting eyes of a house dog. . . . Alas! . . I would have liked to have everything I did not have, to be everybody that I was not ! . . . These wanderings which rendered the realization of my downfall even more painful, did me some good, however, and I used to come home each time with all sorts of courageous resolutions. . . . But in the evening I would see Juliette again, and Juliette was to me the oblivion of all honor and all duty.

Above the houses the sky was brightened by a feeble light announcing the approaching dawn, and at the end of the street, in the shadow, I noticed two glaring points, the two lights of a carriage, vacillating, swerving, approaching, which resembled two errant gas lamps. . . . Hope revived in me for a moment. . . the carriage came nearer, dancing on the pavement, the lights grew larger, the rattling quickened. . . I thought I recognized the familiar trundling of Juliette's brougham! . . . But no! ... Suddenly the carriage turned to the left and disappeared. . . . Within an hour it would already be day !

" She won't come ! . . . This time it is all over, she won't come ! "

I closed the window, lay down again on the sofa, blood surging in my temples, all my members aching. .... In vain I tried to sleep. ... I could not do anything but weep, cry out: