Her only reply was to give me a light tap on the cheek, and nothing more would be said about Paris. A fortnight passed. Suppose that in seeking to cure Mignonne I had made myself ill? That is what I was beginning to ask myself; for the more I saw of Frédérique, the more strongly I felt that it would be impossible for me to renounce the pure and unalloyed happiness that I enjoyed with her. I was no longer the same man; in the midst of my pleasures, I had attacks of melancholy. When Frédérique fixed her eyes on me, I became embarrassed, almost timid; but when she was not looking at me, with what joy I gazed at her! with what bliss my eyes feasted themselves upon every detail of her person! Was it love that I felt for her? I dared not confess it positively to myself, but I was terribly afraid that it was. Yes, I was afraid; for if I loved her with love, and she loved me with friendship only, I must constantly endure the torments of Tantalus in her presence; if I loved her with love, I should not always be able to control myself; and my feelings since I had been with her in the country, the perturbation that I felt when she put her arm through mine, the flush that rose to my face when I happened to place my hand on her knee--everything warned me that a time would come--and perhaps soon--when I should forget respect and social conventions--when the friend would vanish and be succeeded by the lover! How many times, when we were walking together along a narrow path, had I been tempted to press her to my heart! to steal a kiss from her lips! But I remembered the night that I had supped with her, when we had agreed to be good friends, when she adopted the familiar form of address, and granted me the same privilege.--Excited by the fumes of wine,--or perhaps already assailed by the first flames of the passion that was destined later to consume me,--I had kissed her passionately. She had taken offence; that kiss was the signal for our rupture; she forbade me to enter her doors again. Suppose that she should do the same now! She manifested the utmost confidence in me, because she believed me to be simply her friend, because she was persuaded that I would never have any other feeling than friendship for her. Suppose that upon learning that I really loved her she should take offence anew, leave me, deprive me of her presence! That thought froze the blood in my veins, and was sufficient to recall me to my senses whenever Frédérique's lovely eyes were on the point of making me forget myself. Two old bachelors who lived in the nearest house were the only guests she had received thus far; the brothers Ramonet were very pleasant, and played billiards or whist with us when the rain compelled us to stay indoors. Several times I had had occasion to send Pomponne to Paris. I told him to say to Mignonne that I was visiting my friend Balloquet, at Fontenay; I did not know whether he had obeyed my orders strictly, but I doubted it.