"And in those fine projects of our union, which will probably never amount to anything more than projects, did you never think of my fortune?" When I had once uttered these hateful words, I would have given my whole life to recall them, for so long as I had only thought them, I had not perceived the whole of their ignoble significance; but when I heard myself answer in this way the ingenuous, noble, and touching avowal just made by Hélène, who when yet a child had only loved me because she thought me unhappy,--when I realised the incurable wound I had given this generous girl who was so proud, so shy, and so sensitive, I was seized with horrible and vain remorse. Alas! I had plenty of time to realise the horror of my position, for Hélène was a long time in understanding my words, and still longer in recovering from her stupefaction when she had at last understood them. But when I saw depicted on her beautiful face those expressions of grief, of indignation, and of utter contempt which gave it a majestic and even a threatening look, I felt in my heart such violent emotion that, joining my hands together, I fell on my knees before Hélène, and cried out: "Pardon! Pardon!" But she, still seated there with cheeks aflame and sparkling eyes, leaned towards me; then, taking my two hands, she shook them violently as she fixed on me a look of implacable disdain which I shall never forget, then she said, slowly: "I had designs on your fortune,--I--Hélène!" She gave to those two words, "I--Hélène!" such an accent of scorn and wounded pride, that, overcome with shame, I bowed my head before her and broke into sobbing. Then she, without adding another word, arose quickly and went out from the pavilion with firm and steady step. I remained where I was, utterly annihilated. It seemed to me that from henceforth my life was irreparably devoted to evil and misfortune. In spite of which I was resolved to see Hélène once more. CHAPTER X THE CONTRACT For four days after the scene in the pavilion, it was impossible for me to see either Hélène or my aunt; I knew only from their women servants that they were both extremely ill. Those days were frightful ones for me. Since the fatal moment when I had so brutally crushed the tender and delicate affections of Hélène, my eyes had been opened. I had repeated word for word her innocent recital wherein she had told the history of her life, that is to say, the story of her love for me; the more I analysed each phrase, each expression, the more I became convinced of the purity of her sentiments, for I remembered many occasions when she had manifested the rarest delicacy.