fortune by the forelock.

But there was one circumstance which annoyed me. In public, she seized
every opportunity of treating me with distinction, while, when we were
alone, it was exactly the reverse. In the eyes of the world I had all the
appearance of a happy lover, but I would rather have had less of the
appearance of happiness and more of the reality. My love for her was
disinterested; vanity had no share in my feelings.

One day, being alone with me, she said,

"You have enemies, but I silenced them last night."

"They are envious, madam, and they would pity me if they could read the
secret pages of my heart. You could easily deliver me from those
enemies."

"How can you be an object of pity for them, and how could I deliver you
from them?"

"They believe me happy, and I am miserable; you would deliver me from
them by ill-treating me in their presence."

"Then you would feel my bad treatment less than the envy of the wicked?"

"Yes, madam, provided your bad treatment in public were compensated by
your kindness when we are alone, for there is no vanity in the happiness
I feel in belonging to you. Let others pity me, I will be happy on
condition that others are mistaken."

"That's a part that I can never play."

I would often be indiscreet enough to remain behind the curtain of the
window in my room, looking at her when she thought herself perfectly
certain that nobody saw her; but the liberty I was thus guilty of never
proved of great advantage to me. Whether it was because she doubted my
discretion or from habitual reserve, she was so particular that, even
when I saw her in bed, my longing eyes never could obtain a sight of
anything but her head.

One day, being present in her room while her maid was cutting off the
points of her long and beautiful hair, I amused myself in picking up all
those pretty bits, and put them all, one after the other, on her
toilettable, with the exception of one small lock which I slipped into my
pocket, thinking that she had not taken any notice of my keeping it; but
the moment we were alone she told me quietly, but rather too seriously,
to take out of my pocket the hair I had picked up from the floor.
Thinking she was going too far, and such rigour appearing to me as cruel
as it was unjust and absurd, I obeyed, but threw the hair on the
toilet-table with an air of supreme contempt.

"Sir, you forget yourself."

"No, madam, I do not, for you might have feigned not to