"My dearest, are you speaking seriously?" said Madame de Fersen, with a timid, shrinking, and yet bantering uncertainty, which would have enraptured me if Catherine had been less desperately beautiful, and if certain vexations did not drive you senseless as well as wicked. Madame de Fersen's question, moreover, exasperated me, for it showed me that my exhibition of anger approached the comic. "Loving hearts and generous minds divine the impressions, and do not question. If you are reduced to asking me what I feel, I pity you. As for me, I am more clear-sighted, and understand but too well that you no longer love me." "I not love you!" exclaimed Madame de Fersen, clasping her hands in distressed amazement; then she repeated: "I not love you! You say that--to me?" "If you loved me, you would for my sake sacrifice all this following which I detest, because it hampers me, because it is useless, because it warps your mind. If you loved me, you would sacrifice the gratification of your vanity to my happiness." "The gratification of my vanity! It is then from vanity that I preserve, that I cultivate these relations! _Mon Dieu!_ Must I then repeat to you, Arthur, what I never say without sorrow and shame? I have been guilty, let me, at least, do all I can not to aggravate my error." "Now you are beginning with your remorse," said I, harshly; "a rupture is not far distant, but, let me tell you, you might be anticipated." "Ah, what are you saying? It is dreadful,--have I deserved it?" cried Catherine, her eyes filling with tears. "His Excellency the Russian ambassador," announced the footman. Madame de Fersen had barely time to disappear behind the portière which concealed the door between the parlour and her bedchamber. "I am, like you, waiting for Madame de Fersen," I said to M. P. de B----, "she is doubtless finishing her toilet. You are going to the Chambers, I believe?" "Yes; it will be a most brilliant and interesting sitting; they say that Benjamin Constant, Foy, and Casimir Perier are going to speak, and that M. de Villèle will answer." Catherine entered, calm and composed, as if nothing had passed between us. Her control over herself angered me. After a few unmeaning words M. P. de B---- remarked that it was getting late, and it was best to start at once in order to find places in the diplomatic gallery. He offered his arm to Madame de Fersen, who suggested that I should go with them, accompanying the proposal with an imploring glance to which I was insensible. I left Madame de Fersen in a state of irritation, dissatisfied with her and with myself. My carriage drove me to the Tuileries, where I got down for a walk. By chance I met Pommerive. I had not seen him since I left Paris in the spring. I felt so sad, so gloomy, that I was not sorry to find some distraction for my thoughts. "Where do you come from, M. de Pommerive?" I inquired.