or return ever to be possible, therefore we must press forward,
steadily forward! Whoever has once sold himself to the devil can never hope
to transform himself once more into an angel. Therefore he must be on his
guard against nothing so rigidly as repentance, moods of virtuous
atonement! You are now suffering from such a mood; it is my duty to cure
you of it, and I know the medicine which can heal. So listen. If you do not
swear, solemnly, swear, to continue, without wavering or delay, to play the
part which you perform with so much talent and success, I will await Baron
Kolbielsky here and tell him who you are."

"You will not do that," she shrieked, throwing herself from the divan upon
her knees; "no, father, you will not. You will have pity on me, for I will
confess it to you: I love him. He is my first, my only love, and for his
sake, oh! solely for his sake, I would fain again be good, pure, virtuous.
So have pity on me, do not betray me."

"Will you swear to remain Madame de Simonie? To make no change in your
present mode of life? To fulfill the duties which you have undertaken, and
pursue your task with zeal and cleverness?"

"If I do, will you then promise not to betray me?"

"If you do, I will devote all my craft, cunning, and boldness to the one
purpose of making us rich; will put all means in motion, in order, when we
are wealthy, to give you the happiness of living with your lover in some
secluded corner of the world."

"You do not say that you will not betray me. Swear it."

"I swear that I will betray to no human being who and what you are, as soon
as you swear to remain what you are and to fulfill your duties."

"Well then," she groaned faintly, "I swear it: I will remain what I am; I
will make no attempt to fly from this life of disgrace and crime."

"My dear Leonore," he said kindly, "now we have taken our mutual vows and
understand each other. All differences are settled, and we are once more
sure of each other."

"Yes, we are sure of each other," she repeated with a melancholy smile,
slowly rising from her knees and drawing her figure proudly to its full
height. "I will take up my part again and you shall hear no more complaints
from me, father. Have you any further questions to ask?"

"Really," he exclaimed, gazing at her with sparkling eyes, "really, you are
an admirable woman. Just now a despairing, penitent Magdalen, and once more
a Judith ready for battle or a Delilah who is joyfully r