Was I Alfred de Musset ?--and she George Sand?
Did any of them ever taste a more poignant moment than I--when she--lay upon my breast?
To be helpless--yet yield nothing--it challenged me! Yet I took no advantage--none.

When she _looked_--when her eye, her _soul_, was, for that instant, mine, then!--Well!--the world has rushed with me since I saw her on the stairs; life can bring me nothing of such a quality again.

What did I say ?--how much did I mean?
My God! how can I tell?
I began as an actor, did I finish as a man ?" He paced up and down, thinking; gradually, by the help of an iron will quieting down each rebellious pulse.
"That poacher fellow did me a good turn.

_Dare_! the word galled.

But, after all, what woman could say less?
And what matter?
I have held her in my arms, in a setting--under a moon--worthy of her.