two pieces of his own flesh to replace those that I had lost."
"You say this?" demanded the agitated Celestine. "And to me, your affianced?"
"Assuredly," assented Raoul, who was not very bright or subtle. "And why not? The operation was completely successful, so that now, as you have said, scarcely a mark remains to be seen."
"That concerns me not," exclaimed Celestine, springing away from her lover's arms. "Rather would I have you sliced into the semblance of a horse-radish were it but your own natural self. But to have the knowledge every time you embrace me that the lips which touch mine are those of Jean Villjean"
"Not his lips," began Raoul, and pulled himself up—wisely, I think.
"It matters not; I cannot endure the thought," protested Célestine a little wildly. "It was to Raoul de Montbard that I gave myself, not to a being composed of several individualities, least of all Jean Villjean as regards his lips."
"But this is absurd," said Raoul. "That which certainly may have been Jean Villjean formerly is now thoroughly incorporated into my existence. Can Jean move my lips or utter words through them? Why, of course not. But I can, they being part of myself. Be reasonable, Célestine, and do not any longer harbour this unhealthy thought."
"I cannot help it," replied Celestine. "To me it is frankly odious. Do not seek to restrain me, amiable one. I must have a little time in solitude to consider this sudden obstacle to our happiness."
So Célestine Bon applied for leave of absence and obtained it. In the quietude of her own home, possibly, also, influenced by the absence of Raoul, a saner view of
