'M. Blane,' said she, in a voice that seemed piercing, for it stirred my very soul, though it seemed to be rendered tremulous by her emotions; 'why do you not come nearer, and give me your hand?' 'My hand--mademoiselle?' 'Your hand--as of old.' 'Because we are no longer what we--were.' 'My dear M. Arthur,' said she, trembling excessively as she clasped my hand within her own; 'what is the meaning of all this? does not the time seem long--very long--since we have spoken?' 'Yet we parted last night, mademoiselle,' said I, with affected carelessness. She looked at me earnestly and said-- 'Do not speak so unkindly to me, Arthur; but confess that the time _has_ seemed long to you.' 'An eternity!' I exclaimed, as her heart throbbed beneath my hand, which she pressed against her side; 'but alas, mademoiselle--' 'Call me Nicola.' 'Nay--nay--never again.' 'We were so happy during those long rides through sunny Champagne, when you knew me only as poor Nicola--were we not?' 'And as poor Nicola I loved you--loved you with a passion the strength and purity of which are known only to God and to myself! Happy? Oh yes! we were very, very happy, mademoiselle--happier than I shall ever be again.' 'Do not say so, I implore you?' she exclaimed in a low voice; while her fine blue eyes filled with tears, and expressed so much love and melancholy that my soul was moved, for her. 'Pity me, M. Blane,' said she; 'I was then, and am still, but the victim of circumstances. The time which I foresaw--the time when we would become estranged--has come to pass and now you can understand my sorrowful reluctance to hear you speak of love--to receive your offers of--marriage.' 'But why did you conceal from me your exalted rank? why did you not trust me with your name, your title, your secret mission? I had then guarded my heart by prudence and honour too; I would have steeled my breast against you--.' 'Had such been possible,' said she, smiling through her tears, and still clasping my hand. 'Oh, why did you trifle with a love so true as mine, by a deception so unworthy of us both?' 'The Countess d'Amboise, that creature of Louis, who has the key to his heart and secrets, to whom I intrusted myself at Paris, (a faithful adherent of ours, if she has no other virtue) advised me to maintain the character in which I first appeared to you on that night in the Place de la Grève; and dearly has that duplicity cost me.' She wept, and still we stood hand in hand. 'But whence the name of Nicola?' said I. 'My name is Nicola Marie Louise; and I chose the first, because it was the name of my dear mother, who lies in the church of St. Epurus; and, moreover, because our patron is St. Nicolas of Lorraine.' 'But this strange sojourn in Paris, mademoiselle?'