und before you, I entreat you, as the most generous, as the noblest
of men, to pardon, to forgive me. If I have left you in ignorance of
what was passing in my own bosom, never, at least, would I have
consented to deceive you. Oh! I entreat you, Raoul--I implore you on my
knees--answer me one word, even though you wronged me in doing so.
Better, far better, an injurious word from your lips, than a suspicion
from your heart."

"I admire your subtlety of expression, mademoiselle," said Raoul, making
an effort to remain calm. "To leave another in ignorance that you are
deceiving him is loyal; but to deceive him--it seems that that would be
very wrong, and that you would not do it."

"Monsieur, for a long time I thought that I loved you better than
anything else; and so long as I believed in my affection for you, I told
you that I loved you. I could have sworn it on the altar; but a day came
when I was undeceived."

"Well, on that day, mademoiselle, knowing that I still continued to love
you, true loyalty of conduct ought to have obliged you to tell me you
had ceased to love me."

"But on that day, Raoul--on that day, when I read in the depths of my
own heart, when I confessed to myself that you no longer filled my mind
entirely, when I saw another future before me than that of being your
friend, your life-long companion, your wife--on that day, Raoul, you
were not, alas! anymore beside me."

"But you knew where I was, mademoiselle; you could have written to me."

"Raoul, I did not dare to do so. Raoul, I have been weak and cowardly. I
knew you so thoroughly--I knew how devotedly you loved me, that I
trembled at the bare idea of the grief I was going to cause you; and
that is so true, Raoul, that at this very moment I am now speaking to
you, bending thus before you, my heart crushed in my bosom, my voice
full of sighs, my eyes full of tears, it is so perfectly true, that I
have no other defense than my frankness, I have no other sorrow greater
than that which I read in your eyes."

Raoul attempted to smile.

"No!" said the young girl, with a profound conviction, "no, no; you will
not do me so foul a wrong as to disguise your feelings before me now!
You loved me; you were sure of your affection for me, you did not
deceive yourself; you did not lie to your own heart--while I--I--" And
pale as death, her arms thrown despairingly above her head, she fell
upon her knees.

"While you," said Raoul, "you told me you love