a swimmer swept out by the
current.

Vandenesse's involuntary shudder at her dictum plead more eloquently for
him than all his past assiduity. Nothing moves a woman so much as the
discovery of a gracious delicacy in us, such a refinement of sentiment
as her own, for a woman the grace and delicacy are sure tokens of truth.
Charles' start revealed the sincerity of his love. Mme. d'Aiglemont
learned the strength of his affection from the intensity of his pain.

"Perhaps you are right," he said coldly. "New love, new vexation of
spirit."

Then he changed the subject, and spoke of indifferent matters; but he
was visibly moved, and he concentrated his gaze on Mme. d'Aiglemont as
if he were seeing her for the last time.

"Adieu, madame," he said, with emotion in his voice.

"_Au revoir_," said she, with that subtle coquetry, the secret of a very
few among women.

He made no answer and went.

When Charles was no longer there, when his empty chair spoke for him,
regrets flocked in upon her, and she found fault with herself. Passion
makes an immense advance as soon as a woman persuades herself that she
has failed somewhat in generosity or hurt a noble nature. In love there
is never any need to be on our guard against the worst in us; that is
a safeguard; a woman only surrenders at the summons of a virtue. "The
floor of hell is paved with good intentions,"--it is no preacher's
paradox.

Vandenesse stopped away for several days. Every evening at the
accustomed hour the Marquise sat expectant in remorseful impatience.
She could not write--that would be a declaration, and, moreover, her
instinct told her that he would come back. On the sixth day he was
announced, and never had she heard the name with such delight. Her joy
frightened her.

"You have punished me well," she said, addressing him.

Vandenesse gazed at her in astonishment.

"Punished?" he echoed. "And for what?" He understood her quite well,
but he meant to be avenged for all that he had suffered as soon as she
suspected it.

"Why have you not come to see me?" she demanded with a smile.

"Then you have seen no visitors?" asked he, parrying the question.

"Yes. M. de Ronquerolles and M. de Marsay and young d'Escrignon came
and stayed for nearly two hours, the first two yesterday, the last this
morning. And besides, I have had a call, I believe, from Mme. Firmiani
and from your sister, Mme. de Listomere."

Here was a new infliction, torture which none can