"Gabrielle, I think this is not wise. You must cast off this inclination, and banish all of these impressions. Is it not a dangerous habit? Are you not afraid that it may unhinge your reason? And yet--Ah! how well you know, Gabrielle, that if I could only just be quite certain that Blanchette waits--waits. And then _but once_! Yes but once! Gabrielle," I caught her by the shoulders, and held her imprisoned, so that our eyes gazed into each other's, mine with a scrutiny that was half anger, half solicitude, and hers with an intense affection.
"Gabrielle--this must end. You hear me. _End._ Call Blanchette if you can. I will help you--and then--Let it all go. Cure your temperament, banish these hallucinations. I know I have been guilty in listening to you, but now--after Blanchette--after Blanchette--" the words left my lips wearily, as if the next alternative were feared most by me; "after Blanchette, no more of it. It is wrong, it is a diabolical procedure, mixed up with nonsense and disease. _Stop it._" How extravagant are our inconsistencies. I admonished Gabrielle, but I was not unwilling myself to stoop to the indulgence that might bring me a glimpse--no matter how fraught with deception, with the danger of madness, of the worse consequences of physical deterioration, even of religious apostacy, if only a glimpse of her I had made eternally the lode-star of my life, now and hereafter; if only a glimpse, might be vouch-safed.
_Mais pourquoi Non_--was I so wrong? What indeed has happened? Ah I know Gabrielle is--_arretez vous, pauvre barbouilleur, pas encore_--Go on with your story. It is Gabrielle speaking.
"Brother, you do not know what you are asking me. It is impossible--it would rob me of life, for I should not know then whether to really live in this world and to die in the other, or to leave you and mother, and father and home here, and to live the more glorious life beyond. Now I live in both worlds. Yes truly--in the mornings the clouds of angels waken me, through the nights my bed-side is covered with the spread haloes of the dead, and in my ears sound the sweetest whispers, and salutations of the saints. Throughout the day, if I only shut my eyes, and ask for their appearing, the visions continue, and even my face is brushed by fairy hands, or my lips feel the imprint of unseen, unknown faces."