its time
in listening to a romantic story in which there was no scandal.

But here comes Sallenauve himself; he tells me that the electoral
college is formed in a manner that leaves little doubt of his election.
I leave my pen to him, to tell you the romantic tale, already, I
believe, interrupted on several occasions. He will close this letter.

XVIII. CHARLES DE SALLENAUVE TO THE COMTESSE DE L'ESTORADE

7 P.M.

Madame,--The rather abrupt manner in which I parted from you and
Monsieur de l'Estorade the evening of our visit to Armand's school, has
been explained to you by the preoccupations of all sorts to which at
that moment I was a victim. Marie-Gaston tells me that he has kept you
informed of the subsequent events.

I acknowledge that in the restless and agitated state of mind in which
I then was, the sort of belief which Monsieur de l'Estorade appeared to
give to the scandal which he mentioned caused me great displeasure and
some surprise. How, thought I, is it possible that a man of Monsieur de
l'Estorade's morality and intellect can _a priori_ suppose me capable of
such disorder, when he sees me anxious to give to my life all the weight
and consideration which the respect of others alone can bestow? Only a
few moments before this painful conversation I had been on the point
of making you a confidence which would, I presume, have protected me
against the unfortunate impression which Monsieur de l'Estorade conveyed
to your mind. As for Monsieur de l'Estorade himself, I was, I confess,
so annoyed at seeing the careless manner in which he made himself the
echo of a calumny against which I felt he ought rather to have defended
me that I did not _deign_ to make any explanation to him. I now withdraw
that word, but it was then the true expression of a displeasure keenly
felt.

In the course of my electoral contest, I have been obliged to make
public the justification I did not make to you; and I have had the
satisfaction of finding that men in masses are more capable than
individuals of understanding generous impulses and of distinguishing the
honest language of truth. Here are the facts which I related, but more
briefly and with less detail, to my electors.

A few months before my departure from Rome, I was in a cafe frequented
by the pupils of the Academy, when an Italian musician, named Benedetto,
came in, as he usually did every evening. Nominally he was a musician
and a tolerable one; but we had bee