"
"I want Pauline to love me!" he cried next morning, looking at the
talisman the while in unspeakable anguish.
The skin did not move in the least; it seemed to have lost its power
to shrink; doubtless it could not fulfil a wish fulfilled already.
"Ah!" exclaimed Raphael, feeling as if a mantle of lead had fallen
away, which he had worn ever since the day when the talisman had been
given to him; "so you are playing me false, you are not obeying me,
the pact is broken! I am free; I shall live. Then was it all a
wretched joke?" But he did not dare to believe in his own thought as
he uttered it.
He dressed himself as simply as had formerly been his wont, and set
out on foot for his old lodging, trying to go back in fancy to the
happy days when he abandoned himself without peril to vehement
desires, the days when he had not yet condemned all human enjoyment.
As he walked he beheld Pauline--not the Pauline of the Hotel
Saint-Quentin, but the Pauline of last evening. Here was the
accomplished mistress he had so often dreamed of, the intelligent
young girl with the loving nature and artistic temperament, who
understood poets, who understood poetry, and lived in luxurious
surroundings. Here, in short, was Foedora, gifted with a great soul;
or Pauline become a countess, and twice a millionaire, as Foedora
had been.
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