"Oh, that is nothing! I put them on whenever I choose. Did you never have them on, Carl?" "No, never. I had a blister for the measles, because I could not bear to think about leeches. I did not know people put them on for the headache." "I always do, and so does everybody for such headaches as mine. But they have taken away the pain, and that is all I care for. They are little cold creepers, though; and I was glad to pull them off." "Show me the marks, Maria." She lifted her beautiful soft hair. Those cruel little notches were some hieroglyph to me of unknown suffering that her face expressed, though I was too young, and far too ignorant, to imagine of what kind and import. "I promise you, Maria, that if you attempt to write any more, I will tell Anastase. Or no,--I have thought of something far more clever: I will make off with the rest at once." I had an idea of finding her sheets in her own room; and plunging into it,--frightening Josephine, who was nursing her doll, into a remote corner, I gathered all the papers, and folding them together, was about to rush downstairs without returning to Maria, when she called upon me so that I dared not help listening. For, "You dare not do it, Carl!" she cried; "you will kill me, and I shall die now." Agonized by her expression, which was not even girl-like, I halted for an instant at her open door. "Then, Maria, if I leave them here, on your honor, will you not touch them or attempt to write?" "It is not your affair, Carl, and I am angry." She showed she was angry,--very pale, with two crimson spots, and she bit her lip almost black. "It _is_ my affair, as you told _me_, and not your brother or Florimond. He or Florimond would not allow it, you know as well as I do." "They should and would. And, pray, why is it I am not to write? I should say you were jealous, Carl, if you were not Carl. But you have no right to forbid it, and shall not." "I do not know how to express my fear, but I am afraid, and, Maria, I will not let it be done." Lest I should commit myself, I closed the door, stumbled down the dark staircase, tore through the street, and deposited the sheets with the others in the box. I am conscious these details are tedious and oppressive; but they cannot be withheld, because of what I shall have to touch upon.