me and look at me; you will not die of so doing.
Are you so very much afraid of me? Come, have courage to repeat to me
what you have said to others?"

He fell back into a chair, where he remained, his arms hanging
helplessly at his sides, his head drooping on his breast, and he
murmured:

"I knew well that if I saw you again I should be lost."

"Say, rather, saved. Your mind was sick; I have cured you. I work
miracles; you once took the pains to write me so. Will you touch my
hand? That will not bind you to anything; you can return it to me if you
choose."

He took the hand she extended to him; he did not carry it to his lips,
but he held it within his own.

"Listen to me," she resumed. "To-day, this very hour, you will set out
for Cormeilles, and you will say to my father: 'She has given me her
hand; it has seemed good to me to keep it; allow me to do so?' Is it
agreed upon? Will you obey me?"

He exclaimed: "You are here, you speak to me, the world has disappeared;
henceforth I believe only in you!"

"Well done! You see when two people frankly discuss matters they soon
come to an understanding; but the main essential is to see each other.
Since you are so wise when you see me, I naturally desire to have
you see me always. There--take that!" And she handed him a medallion
containing her portrait; then she moved towards the door. On the
threshold she turned. "Please tell Mlle. Galet," said she, "that I
respect her nap, and will return to-morrow. Mlle. Moiseney awaits me,
and must be growing impatient. I have your word of honour? Adieu, then,
until this evening. I must hasten away."

And she did hasten, or, rather, she flew away.

Returning from as well as driving into Paris, the coachman put his
horses to full speed, and Cormeilles was reached before the soup was
cold. Nevertheless, M. Moriaz had had abundant time for anxiety. He did
not take his seat at table without first questioning Mlle. Moiseney;
knowing nothing, she could give him no information; but she responded
indefinitely to his queries with that air of mystery beneath which
it was her wont to disguise her ignorance. He resolved to question
Antoinette after dinner. She anticipated him, taking him aside and
recounting to him what had occurred.

"I presume," said she, "that henceforth you will believe in his pride
and his disinterestedness. Did I not foretell you that I should have to
put myself on my knees to compel him to marry me?"

He could n