.
I see that you are pining for the sphere to which your grace and charms
entice you. I will do anything you order; but yet, since I, too, am an
exile, and for your sake, pray do not ask me not to see you and speak of
love."

"It must be thus," she replied, with half-closed eyes, turning away
abruptly, as if she feared her virtuous resolution were failing. "Let
our parting be forever!"

"Forever!" he repeated, following her into the window alcove, although
thirty pairs of eyes regarded them. "You cannot mean that. At least, I
deserve--have earned--your friendship by what I have undergone for you.
Let me have a word of hope! Though divorce is not allowed in this
country, death befalls any man, for while your statisticians figure out
that the married live longest, they do not assert that they are
immortal. Clemenceau dead, his widow may remarry. You say he is an
enthusiast--one of those college-growths which run to seed without any
fruit. I thought the contrary from the way he rode my horse and handled
the pistols. But, being an enthusiast, how can you expect to do anything
but vegetate? You will always be poor, for, if the man's ideas bore
fruit, he would only sink the gains in fresh enterprises. These artists
are always unthrifty, and they should wed their laundresses or their
cooks. But I--though they have tied up my German revenue, and I have
been practically banished--enjoy a tolerable return from my property in
this Empire. I have been offered a very handsome present if I wholly
transfer allegiance to the Napoleons. Would you not like to have the
_entre_ to the Empress's coterie and shine among the acknowledged
beauties? I give you my word that your peer is not among them, and the
leader would be enchanted with you. Come, suppose a little fatal
accident to Monsieur--may he not suck poison off his paint brush or cut
an artery with his sculptor's chisel? And, after a sojourn at Bravitz,
you might return to Paris a viscountess--a countess, perhaps, and rule
in a pretty court of your own!"

For a woman who had said adieu! she had lingered still listening much
too long. They continued the conversation, turned into this ominous
channel, in the same low key.

Cesarine returned home with the sentiment of loneliness which had
oppressed her almost utterly removed. She did not love Gratian, but one
need not be a prisoner to understand how admirable the jailer with the
outer door-key may appear. She saw in him a precious f