out, but how can I, feeble and alone as I am, resist him. But no matter, Colombe: even if I should come some day to hate him I have loved so long and so well, I tell you now that I would not for all the world subject him to the torture he inflicted upon me the other morning when he declared his love for you." Meanwhile Benvenuto, standing like a statue behind his tree, felt the drops of icy sweat roll down his forehead, and his hand clutched convulsively at his heart. "Poor Ascanio! dear heart!" returned Colombe, "you have suffered bitterly already, and have much to suffer still. But let us face the future calmly. Let us not exaggerate our griefs, for the prospect is not altogether desperate. Including God there are three of us to make head against misfortune. You would rather see me Benvenuto's wife than Comte d'Orbec's, would you not? But you would also prefer to see me wedded to the Lord than to Benvenuto? Very well! if I am not yours, I will belong to none but the Lord, be sure of that, Ascanio. Your wife in this world, or your betrothed in the other. That is my promise to you, Ascanio, and that promise I will keep: never fear." "Thanks, thou angel from heaven, thanks!" said Ascanio. "Let us forget the great world around us, and concentrate our lives upon this little thicket where we now are. Colombe, you haven't told me yet that you love me. Alas! it would almost seem that you are mine because you could not do otherwise." "Hush! Ascanio, hush! do you not see that I am trying to sanctify my happiness by making it a duty? I love you, Ascanio, I love you!" Benvenuto could no longer find strength to stand; he fell upon his knees with his head against a tree; his haggard eyes were fixed vacantly on space, while, with his ear turned toward the young people, he listened with feverish intentness. "Dear Colombe," echoed Ascanio, "I love you, and something tells me that we shall be happy, and that the Lord will not abandon the loveliest of all his angels. Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! in this atmosphere of joy which surrounds me, I forget the circle of grief which I must enter when I leave you." "We must think of to-morrow," said Colombe: "let us help ourselves, Ascanio, so that God may help us. It would be disloyal, I think, to leave your master Benvenuto in ignorance of our love, for he would perhaps incur great risk in contending against Madame d'Etampes and Comte d'Orbec. It would not be fair: you must tell him everything, Ascanio."