In such crises we are sometimes assailed by a contemptible form of pity that consists in unwillingness to look upon the sufferings we have caused. We do not mind inflicting torture upon the woman we cast off, but we do not care to see her tears. It was only natural that René should try to spare himself this insufferable pain by writing--the resource of the weak in every kind of rupture. Paper can stand a good deal, people say. He got out of bed and commenced to write--but the words would not flow easily, and he was obliged to stop. Meanwhile the hour for the postman's first call was drawing near. Although it was perfect madness to expect Suzanne's reply by that delivery, the lover's heart beat faster when Emilie entered the room with his letters and the newspaper, as was her wont when she knew he was awake. How happy would he have been had one of the three envelopes she brought him borne that long, elegant hand which, though seen but once, he would have recognised amongst a hundred others! No--these were only business letters, which he tossed aside so petulantly that his sister stared at him in surprise. 'Are you in trouble, René?' she asked, and as she put the question there was a look of such intense devotion and love in her eyes that she appeared to her brother like a guardian angel come to save him from the troubles of that cruel night. Why should he not charge Emilie with the utterance of those words he dared not formulate himself, and which he could not manage to put into writing? He had no sooner conceived this plan of getting over the difficulty than he hastened to carry it out with the impetuosity common to all weak minds, and with tears in his eyes he began to disclose the unfortunate plight he was in with regard to Rosalie.