As the veil with which until then my conduct had been hidden was gradually raised, I began to understand my inconceivable thoughtlessness, and, like all young people, I began to exaggerate my imprudence still more. I saw Hélène's future life ruined; because, as she was without worldly goods, the irreproachable purity of her life was doubly precious to her. Then in a transport of joy I remembered her love, the sweet and devoted affection which dated from her childhood, her serious and noble qualities, her kindness, her beauty, her exquisite elegance. Finally, I thought of how Hélène, though perfectly innocent, might appear guilty in the eyes of the world, and how, as it was through my fault that this blight might fall on her reputation, the only possible reparation which was worthy of my offering and of her acceptance was the offer of my hand. Then I beheld myself living peacefully and happily in our old château at her side, living as we had always lived,--what a marvellously calm and radiant horizon! As I contemplated such a future my soul seemed to expand and become more noble. A voice seemed to say to me: "Thou art on the threshold of life; two ways are open before thee: the one mysterious, vague, indefinite; the other fixed and assured. In one the past allows you to judge as to what the future will be, it is the beginning of a happiness which only depends on you to follow. See what a sweet and smiling existence,--the serenity of a country life, family souvenirs, a peaceful home. Thou art rich enough to live surrounded by all the prestige of luxury and amid the benedictions of those to whom thou may'st bring help and comfort; Hélène has loved thee since her infancy, thou lovest her. See, there is thy happiness; lay hold upon it. If this chance escapes thee thy life shall be given over to all the storms of thy passions." It was with ecstasy that I listened to this species of revelation, and for a moment happiness seemed assured to me should I decide to pass my life thus at the side of Hélène. These convictions were so tranquillising that my face beamed with joy, my features bore the impress of the purest felicity; I was so transported with my happiness that I cried out in response to my most secret thoughts: "Oh, yes, Hélène, all this shall come to pass; this is my life's destiny." Imagine the astonishment of my aunt, of Madame de Verteuil, of Sophie and Hélène, on hearing this sudden and unintelligible exclamation. "Arthur, you have gone mad," said my aunt. "No, my good aunt, never in my life have I said a wiser thing." Then I added, "Remember your promise." And kissing Hélène's hand, I said to her as I said every evening, "_Bon soir_, Hélène." Then I left the salon and went to my own room. I have told how for a long time I had not dared to open the frame containing my father's portrait; but my happiness made me so brave that I found myself courageous enough to look upon that face which had so terrified me.