have not even the right to
mourn his absence. Who is he? A friend of Madame de Meilhan, and a
stranger to me!... He a stranger!... to me!... No, no, he loves me, I
know he does ... but why did he not tell me so! Has some one come
between us? Perhaps a suspicion separates us.... Oh! he may think I am
in love with Edgar! horrible idea! the thought kills me.... I will write
to him; would you not advise it? What shall I tell him? If he were to
know who I am, doubtless his prejudices against me would be removed. Oh!
I will return to Paris--then he will see that I do not love Edgar, since
I leave him never to return where he is. Yet he could not have been
mistaken concerning the feelings existing between his friend and myself;
he must have seen that I was perfectly free: independence cannot be
assumed. If he thought me in love with another, why did he come to bid
me good-bye? why did he come alone to see me? and why did he not allude
to my approaching return to Paris?--why did he not say he would be glad
to meet me again? How pale and sad he was! and yet he uttered not one
word of regret--of distant hope! The servant said: "Monsieur de Villiers
wishes to see madame, shall I send him away as I did Monsieur de
Meilhan?" I was in the garden and advanced to meet him. He said: "I
return to Paris to-morrow, madame, and have come to see if you have any
commands, and to bid you good-bye."

Two long days had passed since I last saw him, and this unexpected visit
startled me so that I was afraid to trust my voice to speak. "They will
miss you very much at Richeport," he added, "and Madame de Meilhan hopes
daily to see you return." I hastily said: "I cannot return to her
house, I am going away from here very soon." He did not ask where, but
gazed at me in a strange, almost suspicious way, and to change the
conversation, said: "We had at Richeport, after you left, a charming
man, who is celebrated for his wit and for being a great traveller--the
Prince de Monbert." ... He spoke as if on an indifferent subject, and
Heaven knows he was right, for Roger at this moment interested me very,
very little. I waited for a word of the future, a ray of hope to
brighten my life, another of those tender glances that thrilled my soul
with joy ... but he avoided all allusion to our past intercourse; he
shunned my looks as carefully as he had formerly sought them.... I was
alarmed.... I no longer understood him.... I looked around to see if we
were not