"We then agreed as to what I was to do that evening at Honorine's house,
whither I presently returned. It was now August; the day had been hot
and stormy, but the storm hung overhead, the sky was like copper; the
scent of the flowers was heavy, I felt as if I were in an oven, and
caught myself wishing that the Countess might have set out for the
Indies; but she was sitting on a wooden bench shaped like a sofa, under
an arbor, in a loose dress of white muslin fastened with blue bows,
her hair unadorned in waving bands over her cheeks, her feet on a small
wooden stool, and showing a little way beyond her skirt. She did not
rise; she showed me with her hand to the seat by her side, saying:

"'Now, is not life at a deadlock for me?'

"'Life as you have made it, I replied. 'But not the life I propose to
make for you; for, if you choose, you may be very happy....'

"'How?' said she; her whole person was a question.

"'Your letter is in the Count's hands.'

"Honorine started like a frightened doe, sprang to a few paces off,
walked down the garden, turned about, remained standing for some
minutes, and finally went in to sit alone in the drawing-room, where I
joined her, after giving her time to get accustomed to the pain of this
poniard thrust.

"'You--a friend? Say rather a traitor! A spy, perhaps, sent by my
husband.'

"Instinct in women is as strong as the perspicacity of great men.

"'You wanted an answer to your letter, did you not? And there was but
one man in the world who could write it. You must read the reply, my
dear Countess; and if after reading it you still find that your life is
a deadlock, the spy will prove himself a friend; I will place you in
a convent whence the Count's power cannot drag you. But, before going
there, let us consider the other side of the question. There is a law,
alike divine and human, which even hatred affects to obey, and which
commands us not to condemn the accused without hearing his defence.
Till now you have passed condemnation, as children do, with your ears
stopped. The devotion of seven years has its claims. So you must read
the answer your husband will send you. I have forwarded to him, through
my uncle, a copy of your letter, and my uncle asked him what his reply
would be if his wife wrote him a letter in such terms. Thus you are not
compromised. He will himself bring the Count's answer. In the presence
of that saintly man, and in mine, out of respect for your own dig