said,--

"But, my dear fellow, you ask me that in a manner"--

"I must know the truth, I tell you. It is of the utmost importance to
me."

Brevan, struck by a sudden thought, touched his forehead, and
exclaimed,--

"Oh, I see! You are in love with Sarah!"

Daniel would never have thought of such a subterfuge in order to avoid
mentioning the name of Count Ville-Handry; but, seeing it thus offered
to him, he determined to profit by the opportunity.

"Well, yes, suppose it is so," he said with a sigh.

Maxime raised his hands to heaven, and said in a tone of painful
conviction,--

"In that case you are right. You ought to inquire; for you may be close
upon a terrible misfortune."

"Ah, is she really so formidable?"

Maxime shrugged his shoulders, as if he were impatient at being called
upon to prove a well-known fact, and said,--

"I should think so."

There seemed to be no reason why Daniel should persist in his questions
after that. Those words ought to have been explanation enough.
Nevertheless he said in a subdued voice,--

"Pray explain, Maxime! Don't you know, that, as I lead a very quiet
life, I know nothing?"

Brevan, looking more serious than he had ever done, rose and replied,
leaning against the mantlepiece,--

"What would you have me tell you? It is only fools who call out to
lovers to beware; and to warn a man who will not be warned, is useless.
Are you really in love with Miss Sarah, or are you not? If you are,
nothing that I could say would change your mind. Suppose I were to tell
you that this Sarah is a wretched creature, an infamous forger, who has
already the death of three poor devils on her conscience, who loved her
as you do? Suppose I told you worse things than these, and could prove
them? Do you know what would happen? You would press my hand with
effusion. You would overwhelm me with thanks, tears in your eye. You
would vow, in the candor of your heart, that you are forever cured, and,
when you leave me"--

"Well?"

"You would rush to your beloved, tell her all I said, and beseech her to
clear herself of all these charges."

"I beg your pardon; I am not one of those men who"--

But Brevan was getting more and more excited. He interrupted his friend,
and said,--

"Nonsense! You are a man like all other men. Passion does not reason,
does not calculate; and that is the secret of its strength. As long as
we have a spark of commonsense left, we are not really in love. That is