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“Adieu, madame,” Maurice replied with gentle irony. “But tell me, humor me a little, you really are out of danger now?”

“I am.”

“In that case, I’ll be off.”

And with that, Maurice took two steps back and coldly saluted. The stranger didn’t move a muscle.

“This was not what I had in mind,” she said. “Come now, monsieur Maurice, your hand.” Maurice approached the woman and held out his hand, and as he did so he felt her slip a ring onto his finger.

“Citizeness, what do you think you’re doing? You must know you’ve lost one of your rings?”

“Oh, monsieur, what you’re doing now is wrong.”

“So, the only vice I was lacking, eh, madame, was ingratitude?”

“Please, monsieur, please … my friend. Don’t leave me this way. Please, what would you like? What do you need?”

“As payment, you mean?” said the young man savagely.

“No,” said the stranger, flashing him a bewitching look. “But to pardon me for the secret I’m forced to keep from you.”

Maurice saw her beautiful eyes glistening with tears in the dark and he felt her warm hand tremble in his, heard her voice, which was now as soft as a prayer, and he went instantly from anger to a feeling of wild excitement.

“What do I need?” he cried. “I need to see you again.”

“Can’t be done.”

“Just once, for an hour, a minute, a second.”

“Not possible, I tell you.”

“What?” Maurice demanded. “You mean to tell me seriously that I’ll never see you again?”

“Never!” said the woman in what sounded like a mournful echo.

“Oh, madame. You really are toying with me.” And he raised his noble head and shook his long streaming hair in the manner of a man trying to break free of some power holding him against his will. The mystery woman watched him with an indefinable expression on her face. It was clear she had not gotten off scot-free from the feelings she had aroused.

“Listen to me,” she said after a moment of silence, interrupted only by a sigh Maurice vainly sought to suppress. “Listen! Do you swear on your honor to close your eyes when I tell you and count to sixty? Cross your heart and hope to die.…”

“And if I do, what will happen to me?”

“I will prove my gratitude to you in a way I promise you I never will to anyone ever again, even if they do more for me than you have—which would be hard.… That is what will happen.”

“Surely you can just tell me.…”

“No. Trust me, you’ll see.…”

“Really, madame, I can’t tell whether you’re an angel or a fiend.”

“Do you swear?”

“Oh, all right. I swear!”

“Whatever happens, you won’t open your eyes? … Whatever happens, you understand, even if you felt yourself being stabbed?”

“This is the dizzy limit, madame.”

“Swear, monsieur! It seems to me you have little to lose.”

“All right, I swear, whatever happens,” said Maurice, closing his eyes. But he opened them again.

“Let me see you one more time, just once, please,” he begged.

The woman flipped back her hood with a smile not entirely free of coquetry. By the light of the moon, which slid out from between two clouds at that very moment, Maurice saw for a second time the long black curls hanging down, the perfect arc of the eyebrows, which looked painted on with India ink, two almond-shaped eyes, soft and velvety, an exquisitely chiseled nose, fresh lips gleaming like coral.

“Oh! You are beautiful, so beautiful, too beautiful!” cried Maurice.

“Close your eyes,” whispered the stranger, and Maurice did as he was told. The woman took both his hands in hers and spun him round. Suddenly he felt something like perfumed heat waft toward his face and a mouth brushed his mouth, leaving the ring he had spurned between his lips.

The sensation was as fleeting as a thought and it burned like fire. Maurice felt something akin to pain, so unexpected and profound it shot to the bottom of his heart and set it singing. He lurched forward, stretching out his arms in front of him.

“You gave me your word!” cried a voice already remote.

Maurice pressed his palms to his eyes to resist the temptation to break his promise. He was no longer counting, he was