ou
will not only be inflicting upon me an amply deserved mortification, but
you will leave me still more unhappy than I have been guilty, and that is
saying a great deal." Madame de Palme, taking into consideration the
emotion of my voice rather more than my diplomatic pathos, lifted her eyes
upon me again, opened her lips slightly, said nothing, and finally
advanced a somewhat tremulous hand, which I hastened to receive within my
own. She availed herself at once of this _point d'appui_ to get on her
feet, and bounded lightly to the floor. A few minutes later, we were both
on horseback and leaving the court-yard of the chateau.

We reached the extremity of the avenue without having exchanged a single
word. I felt deeply, as you may believe, how much this silence, on my part
at least, was awkward, stiff, and ridiculous; but, as it often happens in
circumstances which demand most imperatively the resources of eloquence, I
was stricken with an invincible sterility of mind. I tried in vain to find
some plausible subject of conversation, and the more annoyed I felt at
finding none, the less capable I became of doing so.

"Suppose we have a run?" said Madame de Palme suddenly.

"Let us have a run!" I said; and we started at a gallop, to my infinite
relief.

Nevertheless, it became absolutely necessary to check our speed at the
entrance of the tortuous path that leads down into the valley of the
ruins. The care required to guide our horses during that difficult descent
served for a few minutes longer as a pretext for my silence; but, on
reaching the level ground of the valley, I saw that I must speak at any
cost, and I was about to begin with some commonplace remark, when Madame
de Palme was kind enough to anticipate me:

"They say, sir, that you are very witty?"

"You may judge for yourself, madam," I replied laughingly.

"Rather difficult so far, even if I were able, which you are very far from
conceding. Oh! you need not deny it! Its perfectly useless, after the
conversation which chance made me overhear the other night."

"I have made so many mistakes concerning you, madam, you must realize the
pitiful confusion I feel toward you."

"And in what respect have you been mistaken?"

"In all respects, I believe."

"You are not quite sure? Admit at least that I am a good-natured woman."

"Oh! with all my heart, madam!"

"You said that well. I believe you think it. You are not bad either, I
believe, and yet you hav