‘My God, my God,’ she cried, in anguish, in his embrace, feeling her life being killed within her. And when he was kissing her, soothing her, her breath came slowly, as if she were really spent, dying.

‘Shall I die, shall I die?’ she repeated to herself.

And in the night, and in him, there was no answer to the question.

And yet, next day, the fragment of her which was not destroyed remained intact and hostile, she did not go away, she remained to finish the holiday, admitting nothing. He scarcely ever left her alone, but followed her like a shadow, he was like a doom upon her, a continual ‘thou shalt,’ ‘thou shalt not.’ Sometimes it was he who seemed strongest, whist she was almost gone, creeping near the