ain syllables devoid of meaning!

Farewell, Paul. You know what there still remains for me to do. If you can
come, I expect you; if not, my friend, expect me. Farewell!

CHAPTER IX.

A CHALLENGE AND DUEL.

THE MARQUIS DE MALOUET TO PAUL B----, PARIS.

CHATEAU DE MALOUET. _October 20_.

Monsieur:--It has become my imperative though painful duty to relate to
you the facts which have brought about the crowning disaster of which you
have already been advised, by more rapid means and with such precautions
as we were able to take; a disaster that completely overwhelms our souls
already so cruelly tried. As you are aware, sir, a few weeks, a few days
had been sufficient to enable Madame de Malouet and myself to know and
appreciate your friend, to conceive for him an eternal affection soon,
alas! to be changed into eternal regret. You are also aware, I know, of
all the sad circumstances that preceded and led to this sad catastrophe.

Monsieur George's conduct during the melancholy days that followed the
death of Madame de Palme, the depth of feeling as well as the elevation of
soul which he constantly manifested had completely won our hearts over to
him. I desired to send him back to you at once, sir; I wished to get him
away from this sorrowful spot, I wished to take him to you myself, since a
painful preoccupation detained you in Paris; but he had imposed upon
himself the duty of not forsaking so soon what was left of the unhappy
woman.

We had removed him to our house; we were surrounding him with attentions.
He never left the chateau, except to go each day on a pious pilgrimage
within a few steps. Still, his health was perceptibly failing. Day before
yesterday morning, Madame de Malouet pressed him to join Monsieur de
Breuilly and myself in a horseback ride. He consented, though somewhat
reluctantly. We started. On the way, he strove manfully to respond to the
efforts we were making to draw him into conversation and rouse him from
his prostration. I saw him smile for the first time in many hours, and I
began to hope that time, the strength of his soul, the attentions of
friendship, might restore some calm to his memory, when, at a turn in the
road, a deplorable chance brought us face to face with Monsieur de
Mauterne.

This gentleman was on horseback; two friends and two ladies made up his
party. We were following the same direction, but his gait was much more
rapid than ours; he passed us, saluting as he