each other now. Love me, Constance, in your memory . . ."
"Yes . . ."
"Just as I shall continue to love you. There! Just because we suffered through each other in this life, we shall now love each other."
"Yes, oh, yes!"
"Kiss me, my dear. And . . . and forgive the old man."
"Yes . . ."
"Even if he . . ."
"Yes, oh yes! . . ."
"Never forgives. For he will never, he will never forgive!"
"I forgive him, I forgive him!"
"Then all is well. Let him come in now: him . . . and my child, my son, Henri . . . and him . . . the child . . . our child. . . ."
Constance rose from her knees; she stumbled, sobbing, across the dark room. She groped for the door, opened it: the light of the lamps streamed in.
"Mamma is asking for you," she stammered through her tears. "For you . . . and Henri . . . and Addie. . . ."
Death entered the room with them. . . .
