at Havre by another in a tavern with a slave.... I might now see
myself lamented at Paris by a third in a garret with a grisette! Oh!
torture! in this one instant of dread, all the arrows of jealousy
rankled in my heart. Oh! I could not be indignant this time, I could not
complain, I could only die.... And I think that if I had not seen the
pure joy beaming in his eyes, lighting up his noble countenance; if I
had not instantly divined, comprehended everything, I believe I would
have dashed myself from the window to escape the strange agony that made
my heart cold and my brain dizzy--agony that I could not and would not
endure. But he looked too happy to be culpable; he made a sign, and I
saw that he was coming over to see me. I waited for him--and in what a
state! My hair was disarranged, and I called Blanchard to assist me in
brushing it; my voice was so weak she came running to me frightened,
thinking me ill ... a thousand confused thoughts rushed through my
brain; one thing was clear: I had found him again, I was about to see
him!

When I was dressed--oh! that morning little did I think I would need a
becoming dress, ... I sat on the sofa in my poor little parlor, and
there, pale with emotion, scarcely daring to breathe, I listened with
burning impatience to the different noises about the house. In a few
moments I heard a knock, the door open, a voice exclaim, "You, Monsieur
le Comte!" He did not wait to be announced, but came in at once to the
parlor where I was. He was so joyous at finding me, and I so delighted
at seeing him, that for the first blissful moments of our meeting
neither of us thought explanations necessary; his joy proved that he was
free to love me, and my manner showed that I might be everything to him.
When he found his voice, he said to me: "What! were you this cherished
star that I have loved for two years?"

Then I remembered my momentary fears, and said: "What! were you the
mysterious beacon? Why were you living there? Why did the Comte de
Villiers dwell in a garret?"

Then, dear Valentine, he told me his noble history; he confessed, rather
unwillingly, that he had been poor like myself; very poor, because he
had given all his fortune to save the honor of a friend, M. Frederick de
B---- Oh! how I wept, while listening to this touching story, so full of
sublime simplicity, generous carelessness and self-sacrifice! This would
have made me adore him if I had not already madly loved him. While