s handed to Rodolph the letter
received from Sarah, saying:

"Here, my lord, is the letter I but just now received in your presence.
Have the kindness to cast your eyes over it, and afterwards commit it to
the flames."

Clemence gazed on her husband with utter astonishment.

"Most infamous!" exclaimed Rodolph, indignantly, as he finished the
perusal of the vile scrawl.

"Nay, my lord, there is an act more dastardly even than the sending an
anonymous letter; and that act I have committed."

"For the love of heaven, explain yourself!"

"Instead of at once fearlessly and candidly showing you this letter, I
concealed its contents from you. I feigned calmness and tranquillity,
while jealousy, rage, and despair filled my heart. Nor is this all. To
what detestable meanness do you suppose, my lord, my ungoverned passions
led me? Why, to enact the part of a spy,--to hide myself basely and
contemptibly behind this door, to overhear your conversation and espy
your actions. Yes, hate me, despise me as you will, I merit all for
having insulted you by a suspicion. Oh, the writer of these fiendish
letters knew well the culpable weakness of him to whom they were
addressed. But, after all I have heard,--for not a word has escaped me,
and I now know the nature of the interest which attracts you to frequent
the Rue du Temple,--after having, by my mean and unworthy jealousy,
given support to the base calumny by believing it even for an instant,
how can I hope for pardon, though I sue for it upon my knees? Still,
still, I venture to implore from you, so superior to myself in nobleness
and generosity of soul, pity, and, if you can, forgiveness for the wrong
I have done you!"

"No more of this, my dear Albert," said Rodolph, extending his hands
towards his friend with the most touching cordiality; "you have nothing
to ask pardon for. Indeed, I feel quite delighted to find you have
discovered the secrets of Madame d'Harville and myself. Now that all
further restraint is at an end, I shall be able to lecture you as much
and as frequently as I choose. But, what is better still, you are now
installed as the confidant of Madame d'Harville,--that is to say, you
now know what to expect from a heart so pure, so generous, and so noble
as hers."

"And you, Clemence," said M. d'Harville, sorrowfully, to his wife, "can
you forgive me my last unworthy act, in addition to the just causes you
already have to hate and despise me?"

"On one condit