Then, as if frightened at her own words, she gave a stroke of the whip to her pony, and dashed off at a gallop. Rooted to the spot, I watched her as she rode, and saw her rapidly approaching a gate which closed the end of the avenue. I sat there and shuddered; but she, who was usually such a coward, jumped her horse over the barrier at a single bound, and I soon lost sight of her in the depths of the forest. When I found myself alone, the words uttered by Hélène with so much bitterness, "Ah, you will never love any one! You will be miserable for ever!" caused me a grievous sense of pain. I understood now that my silence had amounted almost to a declaration of love. Then at last, remembering her confusion and her reticence, I began to believe that she also loved me, and the sort of avowal she had made filled me with such delight that, intoxicated with joy, I wandered about here and there like a crazy man, with no thought, no plan for the future, but happy,--oh, who can tell how happy?--ineffably happy and radiantly proud. At last, night having come, I returned to the château. On entering the parlour, Hélène was there; her cheeks were glowing, her eyes shone with a strange light; seated at the piano she was playing very slowly, and with great expression, "The Last Thought," by Weber, that musical phrase of so much sweetness and melancholy. When Hélène saw me she said, "Come, admit that I frightened you, did I not?" And, without waiting for me to answer, she stopped playing the morceau, as though fearing it might betray the sadness of her thoughts. She began a brilliant waltz, singing to the music from time to time with a voice which was noticeably tremulous. Her mother and Mlle. de Verteuil looked at each other, as stupefied as myself by this sudden access of gaiety, which was so unlike Hélène. Hélène paid no attention, but continued playing her waltz with all the noisy liveliness of a child. Somehow all this unnatural joyfulness wounded and shocked me, so wild did Hélène appear. In fact, after this spasmodic behavior had gone on about half an hour, she became suddenly very pale and then fainted away. A week after this scene Hélène knew of my love and had acknowledged her love for me. CHAPTER VII THE LETTER The three months that followed our avowal passed like a dream. These moments were certainly the happiest of my life. Everything was in harmony with our innocent young love,--the delightful season of the year, our sumptuous and picturesque home. Every adjunct of our daily life was of the most luxurious and elegant kind, a sort of poetry in action always of an inestimable value,--the gilded frame which adds to the effect of even the most beautiful painting.