together；　to…morrow　morning；　in　one　last　embrace；　would　be　joy。　It
  seems　to　me　that　even　then　I　should　have　lived　more　than　a　hundred
  years。　What　does　the　number　of　days　matter　if　we　have　spent　a　whole
  lifetime　of　peace　and　love　in　one　night；　in　one　hour？〃
  〃You　are　right；　Heaven　is　speaking　through　that　pretty　mouth　of　yours。
  Grant　that　I　may　kiss　you；　and　let　us　die；〃　said　Raphael。
  〃Then　let　us　die；〃　she　said；　laughing。
  Towards　nine　o'clock　in　the　morning　the　daylight　streamed　through　the
  chinks　of　the　window　shutters。　Obscured　somewhat　by　the　muslin
  curtains；　it　yet　sufficed　to　show　clearly　the　rich　colors　of　the
  carpet；　the　silks　and　furniture　of　the　room；　where　the　two　lovers　were
  lying　asleep。　The　gilding　sparkled　here　and　there。　A　ray　of　sunshine
  fell　and　faded　upon　the　soft　down　quilt　that　the　freaks　of　live　had
  thrown　to　the　ground。　The　outlines　of　Pauline's　dress；　hanging　from　a
  cheval　glass；　appeared　like　a　shadowy　ghost。　Her　dainty　shoes　had　been
  left　at　a　distance　from　the　bed。　A　nightingale　came　to　perch　upon　the
  sill；　its　trills　repeated　over　again；　and　the　sounds　of　its　wings
  suddenly　shaken　out　for　flight；　awoke　Raphael。
  〃For　me　to　die；〃　he　said；　following　out　a　thought　begun　in　his　dream；
  〃my　organization；　the　mechanism　of　flesh　and　bone；　that　is　quickened
  by　the　will　in　me；　and　makes　of　me　an　individual　MAN；　must　display
  some　perceptible　disease。　Doctors　ought　to　understand　the　symptoms　of
  any　attack　on　vitality；　and　could　tell　me　whether　I　am　sick　or　sound。〃
  He　gazed　at　his　sleeping　wife。　She　had　stretched　her　head　out　to　him；
  expressing　in　this　way　even　while　she　slept　the　anxious　tenderness　of
  love。　Pauline　seemed　to　look　at　him　as　she　lay　with　her　face　turned
  towards　him　in　an　attitude　as　full　of　grace　as　a　young　child's；　with
  her　pretty；　half…opened　mouth　held　out　towards　him；　as　she　drew　her
  light；　even　breath。　Her　little　pearly　teeth　seemed　to　heighten　the
  redness　of　the　fresh　lips　with　the　smile　hovering　over　them。　The　red
  glow　in　her　complexion　was　brighter；　and　its　whiteness　was；　so　to
  speak；　whiter　still　just　then　than　in　the　most　impassioned　moments　of
  the　waking　day。　In　her　unconstrained　grace；　as　she　lay；　so　full　of
  believing　trust；　the　adorable　attractions　of　childhood　were　added　to
  the　enchantments　of　love。
  Even　the　most　unaffected　women　still　obey　certain　social　conventions；
  which　restrain　the　free　expansion　of　the　soul　within　them　during　their
  waking　hours；　but　slumber　seems　to　give　them　back　the　spontaneity　of
  life　which　makes　infancy　lovely。　Pauline　blushed　for　nothing；　she　was
  like　one　of　those　beloved　and　heavenly　beings；　in　whom　reason　has　not
  yet　put　motives　into　their　actions　and　mystery　into　their　glances。　Her
  profile　stood　out　in　sharp　relief　against　the　fine　cambric　of　the
  pillows；　there　was　a　certain　sprightliness　about　her　loose　hair　in
  confusion；　mingled　with　the　deep　lace　ruffles；　but　she　was　sleeping　in
  happiness；　her　long　lashes　were　tightly　pressed　against　her　cheeks；　as
  if　to　secure　her　eyes　from　too　strong　a　light；　or　to　aid　an　effort　of
  her　soul　to　recollect　and　to　hold　fast　a　bliss　that　had　been　perfect
  but　fleeting。　Her　tiny　pink　and　white　ear；　framed　by　a　lock　of　her
  hair　and　outlined　by　a　wrapping　of　Mechlin　lace；　would　have　made　an
  artist；　a　painter；　an　old　man；　wildly　in　love；　and　would　perhaps　have
  restored　a　madman　to　his　senses。
  Is　it　not　an　ineffable　bliss　to　behold　the　woman　that　you　love；
  sleeping；　smiling　in　a　peaceful　dream　beneath　your　protection；　loving
  you　even　in　dreams；　even　at　the　point　where　the　individual　seems　to
  cease　to　exist；　offering　to　you　yet　the　mute　lips　that　speak　to　you　in
  slumber　of　the　latest　kiss？　Is　it　not　indescribable　happiness　to　see　a
  trusting　woman；　half…clad；　but　wrapped　round　in　her　love　as　by　a　cloak
  modesty　in　the　midst　of　dishevelmentto　see　admiringly　her
  scattered　clothing；　the　silken　stocking　hastily　put　off　to　please　you
  last　evening；　the　unclasped　girdle　that　implies　a　boundless　faith　in
  you。　A　whole　romance　lies　there　in　that　girdle；　the　woman　that　it　used
  to　protect　exists　no　longer；　she　is　yours；　she　has　become　YOU；
  henceforward　any　betrayal　of　her　is　a　blow　dealt　at　yourself。
  In　this　softened　mood　Raphael's　eyes　wandered　over　the　room；　now
  filled　with　memories　and　love；　and　where　the　very　daylight　seemed　to
  take　delightful　hues。　Then　he　turned　his　gaze　at　last　upon　the
  outlines　of　the　woman's　form；　upon　youth　and　purity；　and　love　that
  even　now　had　no　thought　that　was　not　for　him　alone；　above　all　things；
  and　longed　to　live　for　ever。　As　his　eyes　fell　upon　Pauline；　her　own
  opened　at　once　as　if　a　ray　of　sunlight　had　lighted　on　them。
  〃Good…morning；〃　she　said；　smiling。　〃How　handsome　you　are；　bad　man！〃
  The　grace　of　love　and　youth；　of　silence　and　dawn；　shone　in　their
  faces；　making　a　divine　picture；　with　the　fleeting　spell　over　it　all
  that　belongs　only　to　the　earliest　days　of　passion；　just　as　simplicity
  and　artlessness　are　the　peculiar　possession　of　childhood。　Alas！　love's
  springtide　joys；　like　our　own　youthful　laughter；　must　even　take
  flight；　and　live　for　us　no　longer　save　in　memory；　either　for　our
  despair；　or　to　shed　some　soothing　fragrance　over　us；　according　to　the
  bent　of　our　inmost　thoughts。
  〃What　made　me　wake　you？〃　said　Raphael。　〃It　was　so　great　a　pleasure　to
  watch　you　sleeping　that　it　brought　tears　to　my　eyes。〃
  〃And　to　mine；　too；〃　she　answered。　〃I　cried　in　the　night　while　I
  watched　you　sleeping；　but　not　with　happiness。　Raphael；　dear；　pray
  listen　to　me。　Your　breathing　is　labored　while　you　sleep；　and　something
  rattles　in　your　chest　that　frightens　me。　You　have　a　little　dry　cough
  when　you　are　asleep；　exactly　like　my　father's；　who　is　dying　of
  phthisis。　In　those　sounds　from　your　lungs　I　recognized　some　of　the
  peculiar　symptoms　of　that　complaint。　Then　you　are　feverish；　I　know　you
  are；　your　hand　was　moist　and　burningDarling；　you　are　young；〃　she
  added　with　a　shudder；　〃and　you　could　still　get　over　it　if
  unfortunatelyBut；　no；〃　she　cried　cheerfully；　〃there　is　no
  'unfortunately；'　the　disease　is　contagious；　so　the　doctors　say。〃
  She　flung　both　arms　about　Raphael；　drawing　in　his　breath　through　one
  of　those　kisses　in　which　the　soul　reaches　its　end。
  〃I　do　not　wish　to　live　to　old　age；〃　she　said。　〃Let　us　both　die　young；
  and　go　to　heaven　while　flowers　fill　our　hands。〃
  〃We　always　make　such　designs　as　those　when　we　are　well　and　strong；〃
  Raphael　replied；　burying　his　hands　in　Pauline's　hair。　But　even　then　a
  horrible　fit　of　coughing　came　on；　one　of　those　deep　ominous　coughs
  that　seem　to　come　from　the　depths　of　the　tomb；　a　cough　that　leaves　the
  sufferer　ghastly　pale；　trembling；　and　perspiring；　with　aching　sides
  and　quivering　nerves；　with　a　feeling　of　weariness　pervading　the　very
  marrow　of　the　spine；　and　unspeakable　languor　in　every　vein。　Raphael
  slowly　laid　himself　down；　pale；　exhausted；　and　overcome；　like　a　man
  who　has　spent　all　the　strength　in　him　over　one　final　effort。　Pauline's
  eyes；　grown　large　with　terror；　were　fixed　upon　him；　she　lay　quite
  motionless；　pale；　and　silent。
  〃Let　us　commit　no　more　follies；　my　angel；〃　she　said；　trying　not　to　let
  Raphael　see　the　dreadful　forebodings　that　disturbed　her。　She　covered
  her　face　with　her　hands；　for　she　saw　Death　before　herthe　hideous
  skeleton。　Raphael's　face　had　grown　as　pale　and　livid　as　any　skull
  unearthed　from　a　churchyard　to　assist　the　studies　of　some　scientific
  man。　Pauline　remembered　the　exclamation　that　had　escaped　from　Valentin
  the　previous　evening；　and　to　herself　she　said：
  〃Yes；　there　are　gulfs　that　love　can　never　cross；　and　therein　love　must
  bury　itself。〃
  On　a　March　morning；　some　days　after　this　wretched　scene；　Raphael　found
  himself　seated　in　an　armchair；　placed　in　the　window　in　the　full　light
  of　day。　Four　doctors　stood　round　him；　each　in　turn　trying　his　pulse；
  feeling　him　over；　and　questioning　him　with　apparent　interest。　The
  invalid　sought　to　guess　their　thoughts；　putting　a　construction　on
  every　movement　they　made；　and　on　the　slightest　contractions　of　their
  brows。　His　last　hope　lay　in　this　consultation。　This　court　of　appeal
  was　about　to　pronounce　its　decisionlife　or　death。
  Valentin　had　summoned　the　oracles　of　modern　medicine；　so　that　he　might
  have　the　last　word　of　science。　Thanks　to　his　wealth　and　title；　there
  stood　before　him　three　embodied　theories；　human　knowledge　fluctuated
  round　the　three　points。　Three　of　the　doctors　brought　among　them　the
  complete　circle　of　medical　philosophy；　they　represented　the　points　of
  conflict　round　which　the　battle　raged；　between　Spiritualism；　Analysis；
  and　goodness　knows　what　in　the　way　of　mocking　eclecticism。
  The　fourth　doctor　was　Horace　Bianchon；　a　man　of　science　with　a　future
  before　him；　the　most　distinguished　man　of　the　new　school　in　medicine；
  a　discreet　and　unassuming　representative　of　a　studious　generation　that
  is　preparing　to　receive　the　inheritance　of　fifty　years　of　experience
  treasured　up　by　the　Ecole　de　Paris；　a　generation　that　perhaps　will
  erect　the　monument　for　the　building　of　which　the　centuries　behind　us
  have　collected　the　different　materials。　As　a　personal　friend　of　the
  Marquis　and　of　Rastignac；　he　had　been　in　attendance　on　the　former　for
  some　days　past；　and　was　helping　him　to　answer