Then, as it always happens when all hope is for ever ruined, her precious qualities shone with a brighter lustre. I saw and recognised, one by one, all the chances of happiness that I lost. Where should I ever find so many conditions of felicity united,--beauty, tenderness, grace, elegance? And then the thought of the future without Hélène terrified me. I knew that I was neither strong enough to live a retired and solitary life, or to traverse without misfortune the thousand experiences of an aimless and adventurous existence. I foresaw the violence of my passions,--everything would tend to lead me into excesses. I was independent, rich, and young; yet, however desirable such a life of pleasure might be for another in my position, the idea of it was distressing to me; it was a torrent which I could see rushing along, but knew not whither it would lead me. Would it plunge into a bottomless gulf? Or, later, calming the impetuosity of its waters, would it become a peaceful current? Then, hard and defiant, as I had just found myself capable of becoming towards Hélène, who was so noble and so good, in what love would I ever have faith in the future? I should never even be able to enjoy those rare moments of effusive confidences that sometimes shine so brilliantly from out the stormy clouds of passion. In a word, isolation alarmed me,--it would crush me under its weight of coldness and dullness,--and without knowing the reason, the life of society affrighted me. Like a wretched man, seized with vertigo, I saw the abyss in all its horror, and yet a fatal and irresistible attraction dragged me towards it. Filled with such thoughts and such fears, I determined to make every attempt to destroy in Hélène's heart the dreadful impression I must have left there. The fifth day after that fatal scene I was permitted to pay a visit to my aunt. I found her very pale, very much changed. In our long conversation I confessed everything to her, my frightful doubts and what had caused them, my heartless conduct towards Hélène, her indignation and scorn upon hearing my miserably sordid suspicions. But I also told her under whose influence I had yielded in acting so cruelly; I recalled to her the soul-chilling maxims of my father; I sought an excuse by telling her of the indelible impression those precepts had made on me; I showed her what an unfortunate position Hélène would hold in the eyes of the world, should she persist in her determination to have no more to do with me. These rumours were calumnies, as we knew, but they existed; and then on my knees, and in the name of Hélène's future, I begged her mother to intercede in my behalf. My aunt, being kind and generous, was touched, for my grief was profound and real; she promised to speak with her daughter, to try and overcome her objections, and to induce her to accept my hand. Hélène continued to refuse to see me.