r to return again.
Since then I had without pity refused his love, it is true; but could he
believe this proud disdain to be genuine, when, after this decisive
explanation, he found me tranquilly established at his mother's house?
And there could he follow the different caprices of my mind, divine
those temptations of generosity which first moved me in his favor, and
then discover this wild love that was suddenly born in my soul for a
phantom that I had only seen for a few hours?.... Had he not, on the
contrary, a right to believe that I loved him, and to exclaim against
the infamy, cruelty and perfidy of my refusing to see him, and my
endeavors to convince him that I cared nothing for him? He was right to
accuse me, for appearances were all against me--my own conduct condemned
me. I must acknowledge myself culpable, and submit to the sentence that
has been pronounced against me. I resigned myself sadly to repair the
wrong I had committed. One hope still remained to me: Edgar brought back
by me would be restored to his mother, but Edgar would cease to love me
when he knew my real name. There is a difference between loving an
adventuress, whose affections can be trifled with, and loving a woman of
high birth and position, who must be honorably sought in marriage. Edgar
has an invincible repugnance to matrimony; he considers this august
institution as a monstrous inconvenience, very immoral, a profane
revelation of the most sacred secrets of life; he calls it a public
exhibition of affection; he says no one has a right to proclaim his
preference for one woman. To call a woman: my wife! what revolting
indiscretion! To call children: my children! what disgusting fatuity! In
his eyes nothing is more horrible than a husband driving in the Champs
Elysees with his family, which is tantamount to telling the passers-by:
This woman seated by my side is the one I have chosen among all women,
and to whom I am indebted for all pleasure in life; and this little girl
who resembles her so much, and this little boy, the image of me, are the
bonds of love between us. The Orientals, he added, whom we call
barbarians, are more modest than we; they shut up their wives; they
never appear in public with them, they never let any one see the objects
of their tenderness, and they introduce young men of twenty, not as
their sons, but as the heirs of their names and fortunes.

Recalling these remarkable sentiments of M. de Meilhan, I said to
myself