s not worth one tear of thine!"

Djalma's brow had darkened, as he listened. Having kept inviolable the
secret of the various incidents of his passion for Mdlle. de Cardoville,
he could not but see in these words a quite involuntary allusion to the
delays and refusals of Adrienne. And yet Djalma suffered a moment in his
pride, at the thought of considerations and duties, that a woman holds
dearer than her love. But this bitter and painful thought was soon
effaced from the oriental's mind, thanks to the beneficent influence of
the remembrance of Adrienne. His brow again cleared, and he answered the
half-caste, who was watching him attentively with a sidelong glance: "You
are deluded by grief. If you have no other reason to doubt her you love,
than these refusals and vague suspicions, be satisfied! You are perhaps
loved better than you can imagine."

"Alas! would it were so, my lord!" replied the half-caste, dejectedly, as
if he had been deeply touched by the words of Djalma. "Yet I say to
myself: There is for this woman something stronger than her
love--delicacy, dignity, honor, what you will--but she does not love me
enough to sacrifice for me this something!"

"Friend, you are deceived," answered Djalma, mildly, though the words
affected him with a painful impression. "The greater the love of a woman,
the more it should be chaste and noble. It is love itself that awakens
this delicacy and these scruples. He rules, instead of being ruled."

"That is true," replied the half-caste, with bitter irony, "Love so rules
me, that this woman bids me love in her own fashion, and I have only to
submit."

Pausing suddenly, Faringhea hid his face in his hands, and heaved a deep
drawn sigh. His features expressed a mixture of hate, rage, and despair,
at once so terrible and so painful, that Djalma, more and more affected,
exclaimed, as he seized the other's hand: "Calm this fury, and listen to
the voice of friendship! It will disperse this evil influence. Speak to
me!"

"No, no! it is too dreadful!"

"Speak, I bid thee."

"No! leave the wretch to his despair!"

"Do you think me capable of that?" said Djalma, with a mixture of
mildness and dignity, which seemed to make an impression on the half
caste.

"Alas!" replied he, hesitating; "do you wish to hear more, my lord?"

"I wish to hear all."

"Well, then! I have not told you all--for, at the moment of making this
confession, shame and the fear of ridicule kept me back.