m the world; she wrote to
him at once; it was a humble, gentle letter, surely it would bring him
if he loved her still. She sent her footman with it next day. On the
servant's return, she asked whether he had given the letter to M. de
Montriveau himself, and could not restrain the movement of joy at the
affirmative answer. Armand was in Paris! He stayed alone in his house;
he did not go out into society! So she was loved! All day long she
waited for an answer that never came. Again and again, when impatience
grew unbearable, Antoinette found reasons for his delay. Armand felt
embarrassed; the reply would come by post; but night came, and she could
not deceive herself any longer. It was a dreadful day, a day of pain
grown sweet, of intolerable heart-throbs, a day when the heart squanders
the very forces of life in riot.

Next day she sent for an answer.

"M. le Marquis sent word that he would call on Mme la Duchesse,"
reported Julien.

She fled lest her happiness should be seen in her face, and flung
herself on her couch to devour her first sensations.

"He is coming!"

The thought rent her soul. And, in truth, woe unto those for whom
suspense is not the most horrible time of tempest, while it increases
and multiplies the sweetest joys; for they have nothing in them of
that flame which quickens the images of things, giving to them a second
existence, so that we cling as closely to the pure essence as to its
outward and visible manifestation. What is suspense in love but a
constant drawing upon an unfailing hope?--a submission to the terrible
scourging of passion, while passion is yet happy, and the disenchantment
of reality has not set in. The constant putting forth of strength and
longing, called suspense, is surely, to the human soul, as fragrance
to the flower that breathes it forth. We soon leave the brilliant,
unsatisfying colours of tulips and coreopsis, but we turn again and
again to drink in the sweetness of orange-blossoms or volkameria-flowers
compared separately, each in its own land, to a betrothed bride, full of
love, made fair by the past and future.

The Duchess learned the joys of this new life of hers through the
rapture with which she received the scourgings of love. As this change
wrought in her, she saw other destinies before her, and a better
meaning in the things of life. As she hurried to her dressing-room, she
understood what studied adornment and the most minute attention to
her toilet me