which will allow of your doing many good works. Honorine, when you long
for an unnecessary absolution, you have only to ask for it; it will not
be forced upon you by the Church or by the Law; it will wait on your
pride, on your own impulsion. My wife might indeed have to fear all the
things you dread; but not my friend and sister, towards whom I am bound
to show every form and refinement of politeness. To see you happy is
enough happiness for me; I have proved this for the seven years past.
The guarantee for this, Honorine, is to be seen in all the flowers made
by you, carefully preserved, and watered by my tears. Like the _quipos_,
the tally cords of the Peruvians, they are the record of our sorrows.

"'If this secret compact does not suit you, my child, I have begged
the saintly man who takes charge of this letter not to say a word in
my behalf. I will not owe your return to the terrors threatened by the
Church, nor to the bidding of the Law. I will not accept the simple and
quiet happiness that I ask from any one but yourself. If you persist
in condemning me to the lonely life, bereft even of a fraternal smile,
which I have led for nine years, if you remain in your solitude and show
no sign, my will yields to yours. Understand me perfectly: you shall be
no more troubled that you have been until this day. I will get rid
of the crazy fellow who has meddled in your concerns, and has perhaps
caused you some annoyance...'

"'Monsieur,' said Honorine, folding up the letter, which she placed in
her bosom, and looking at my uncle, 'thank you very much. I will avail
myself of Monsieur le Comte's permission to remain here----'

"'Ah!' I exclaimed.

"This exclamation made my uncle look at me uneasily, and won from the
Countess a mischievous glance, which enlightened me as to her motives.

"Honorine had wanted to ascertain whether I were an actor, a bird
snarer; and I had the melancholy satisfaction of deceiving her by my
exclamation, which was one of those cries from the heart which women
understand so well.

"'Ah, Maurice,' said she, 'you know how to love.'

"The light that flashed in my eyes was another reply which would have
dissipated the Countess' uneasiness if she still had any. Thus the Count
found me useful to the very last.

"Honorine then took out the Count's letter again to finish reading it.
My uncle signed to me, and I rose.

"'Let us leave the Countess,' said he.

"'You are going already Maurice?' she