"You are great, you are generous; you will not strike me as a woman strikes; you will not die to drive me to despair." "I see," said he, more gently, "love is gone, but pity remains.

I thought that was gone, too." "Yes, Camille," said Josephine, in a whisper, "pity remains, and remorse and terror at what I have done to a man of whom I was never worthy." "Well, madame, as you have come at last to me, and even do me the honor to ask me a favor--I shall try--if only out of courtesy--to--ah, Josephine! Josephine! when did I ever refuse you anything ?" At this Josephine sank into a chair, and burst out crying.

Camille, at this, began to cry too; and the two poor things sat a long way from one another, and sobbed bitterly.
The man, weakened as he was, recovered his quiet despair first.
"Don't cry so," said he.

"But tell me what is your will, and I shall obey you as I used before any one came between us." "Then, live, Camille.

I implore you to live." "Well, Josephine, since you care about it, I will try and live.