d, in truth, woe unto those for whom
suspense is not the most horrible time of tempest, while it increases
and multiplies the sweetest joys; for they have nothing in them of
that flame which quickens the images of things, giving to them a second
existence, so that we cling as closely to the pure essence as to its
outward and visible manifestation. What is suspense in love but a
constant drawing upon an unfailing hope?--a submission to the terrible
scourging of passion, while passion is yet happy, and the disenchantment
of reality has not set in. The constant putting forth of strength and
longing, called suspense, is surely, to the human soul, as fragrance
to the flower that breathes it forth. We soon leave the brilliant,
unsatisfying colours of tulips and coreopsis, but we turn again and
again to drink in the sweetness of orange-blossoms or volkameria-flowers
compared separately, each in its own land, to a betrothed bride, full of
love, made fair by the past and future.

The Duchess learned the joys of this new life of hers through the
rapture with which she received the scourgings of love. As this change
wrought in her, she saw other destinies before her, and a better
meaning in the things of life. As she hurried to her dressing-room, she
understood what studied adornment and the most minute attention to
her toilet mean when these are undertaken for love's sake and not for
vanity. Even now this making ready helped her to bear the long time of
waiting. A relapse of intense agitation set in when she was dressed; she
passed through nervous paroxysms brought on by the dreadful power which
sets the whole mind in ferment. Perhaps that power is only a disease,
though the pain of it is sweet. The Duchess was dressed and waiting
at two o clock in the afternoon. At half-past eleven that night M.
de Montriveau had not arrived. To try to give an idea of the anguish
endured by a woman who might be said to be the spoilt child of
civilization, would be to attempt to say how many imaginings the heart
can condense into one thought. As well endeavour to measure the forces
expended by the soul in a sigh whenever the bell rang; to estimate the
drain of life when a carriage rolled past without stopping, and left her
prostrate.

"Can he be playing with me?" she said, as the clocks struck midnight.

She grew white; her teeth chattered; she struck her hands together and
leapt up and crossed the boudoir, recollecting as she did so how often