which still absorbs her--I have lately had a proof of the fact--the
keenest of her passion."

"You do me good," rejoined Pierre de Moras, breathing more freely, "and
yet I had already thought of all these things. But if she does not love
now, she will some day--and suppose it should not be me! Were she to
bestow upon another all that she refuses me! my friend," added the count,
whose handsome features turned pale, "I would kill her with my own hand!"

"So much for being in love," said Lucan; "and I, am I nothing more to you,
then?"

"You, my friend," said Moras with emotion, "you see my confidence in you!
I have revealed to you weaknesses of which I am ashamed. Ah! why have I
ever known any other feeling than that of friendship! Friendship alone
returns as much as it receives; it fortifies instead of enervating; it is
the only passion worthy of a man. Never forsake me, my friend; you will
console me, whatever may happen."

The bell that was ringing for breakfast called them back to the chateau.
Julia pretended being tired and ailing. Under shelter of this pretext, her
silent humor, her more than dry answers to Lucan's polite questions,
passed at first without awakening either her mother's or her husband's
attention; but during the remainder of the day, and amid the various
incidents of family life, Julia's aggressive tone and disagreeable manners
toward Lucan became too strongly marked not to be noticed. However, as
Lucan had the patience and good taste not to seem to notice them, each one
kept his own impressions to himself. The dinner was, that day, more quiet
than usual. The conversation fell, toward the end of the meal, upon
extremely delicate ground, and it was Julia who brought it there, though,
however, without the least thought of evil. She was exhausting her mocking
_verve_ upon a little boy of eight or ten--the son of the Marchioness de
Boisfresnay--who had annoyed her extremely the night before, by parading
through the ball his own pretentious little person, and by throwing
himself pleasantly like a top between the legs of the gentlemen and
through the dresses of the ladies. The marchioness went into ecstasies at
these charming pranks. Clotilde defended her mildly, alleging that this
child was her only son.

"That is no reason for bestowing upon society one scoundrel the more,"
said Lucan.

"However," rejoined Julia, who hastened to be no longer of her own opinion
as soon as her step-father seemed to h