hould
never complain to you."

"I only see one way of providing against such a misfortune. When I have
been unfaithful to you I will punish myself by depriving myself of the
pleasure of giving you proofs of my affection till I am certain that I
can do so without danger."

"Ah! you would punish me for your faults, would you? If you love me as I
love you, believe me you would find a better remedy than that."

"What is that?"

"You would never be unfaithful to me."

"You are right. I am sorry I was not the first to think of this plan,
which I promise to follow for the future."

"Don't make any promises," said she, with a sigh, "it might prove too
difficult to keep them."

It is only love which can inspire such conversations, but unfortunately
it gains nothing by them.

Next morning, just as I was going out to take my letters, the Baron de
Bercei, uncle of my friend Bavois, entered.

"I know," said he, "that my nephew owes his fortune to you; he is just
going to be made general, and I and all the family will be enchanted to
make your acquaintance. I have come to offer my services, and to beg that
you will dine with me to-day, and on any other day you please when you
have nothing better to do, and I hope you will always consider yourself
of the family.

"At the same time I beg of you not to tell anybody that my nephew has
become a Catholic, as according to the prejudices of the country it would
be a dishonour which would reflect on the whole family."

I accepted his invitation, and promised to say nothing about the
circumstance he had mentioned.

I left my letters of introduction, and I received everywhere a welcome of
the most distinguished kind. Madame de Gentil-Langalerie appeared the
most amiable of all the ladies I called on, but I had not time to pay my
court to one more than another. Every day politeness called me to some
dinner, supper, ball, or assembly. I was bored beyond measure, and I felt
inclined to say how troublesome it is to have such a welcome. I spent a
fortnight in the little town, where everyone prides himself on his
liberty, and in all my life I have never experienced such a slavery, for
I had not a moment to myself. I was only able to pass one night with my
sweetheart, and I longed to set off with her for Geneva. Everybody would
give me letters of introduction for M. de Voltaire, and by their
eagerness one would have thought the great man beloved, whereas all
detested him on account of