t connection can there be between the wrongs
I reproach you with and the pecuniary end proposed? I do not at all
know--but you have told me yourself that our enemies are so dangerously
skillful, and their craft so far-reaching, that we must expect all, be
prepared for all. I will remember the lesson. I have promised you
frankness, sir, and now I suppose you have it."

"It would be an imprudent frankness if I were your enemy," said Rodin,
still impassible; "but you also promised me some advice, my dear young
lady."

"My advice will be short; do not attempt to continue the struggle,
because, you see, there is something stronger than you and yours--it is a
woman's resolve, defending her happiness."

Adrienne pronounced these last words with so sovereign a confidence; her
beautiful countenance shone, as is it were, with such intrepid joy, that
Rodin, notwithstanding his phlegmatic audacity, was for a moment
frightened. Yet he did not appear in the least disconcerted; and, after a
moment's silence, he resumed, with an air of almost contemptuous
compassion: "My dear young lady, we may perhaps never meet again; it is
probable. Only remember one thing, which I now repeat to you: I never
justify myself. The future will provide for that. Notwithstanding which,
my dear young lady, I am your humble servant;" and he made her a low bow.

"Count, I beg to salute you most respectfully," he added, bowing still
more humbly to M. de Montbron; and he went out.

Hardly had Rodin left the room than Adrienne ran to her desk, and writing
a few hasty lines, sealed the note, and said to M. de Montbron: "I shall
not see the prince before to-morrow--as much from superstition of the
heart as because it is necessary for my plans that this interview should
be attended with some little solemnity. You shall know all; but I write
to him on the instant, for, with an enemy like M. Rodin, one must be
prepared for all."

"You are right, my dear child; quick! the letter." Adrienne gave it to
him.

"I tell him enough," said she, "to calm his grief; and not enough to
deprive me of the delicious happiness of the surprise I reserve for to
morrow."

"All this has as much sense as heart in it: I will hasten to the prince's
abode, to deliver your letter. I shall not see him, for I could not
answer for myself. But come! our proposed drive, our evening's amusement,
are still to hold good."

"Certainly. I have more need than ever to divert my thoughts till