He took his seat opposite her, sipped his tea, and praised the loveliness of the morning. "It is like a spring day, and yet it is late in the autumn." "Yes," she responded, with a quiver in her voice. "It is the 30th of November." "Already?" he said, indifferently. "How time--" He did not finish the sentence. Her peculiar intonation struck him, and as he looked at her, "_Mon Dieu!_" he exclaimed, and, sitting beside her, he put his arms around her. "Pardon me! How could I forget it. Why, it is the anniversary of our wedding-day." She made no answer, but put her arms around his neck and wept quietly. "Let it be," she whispered, as he tried to soothe her, pressing her face more closely against his shoulder. "It is best so." She soon dried her tears, and loosed herself gently from his arms. "Sit down opposite me, and let us talk sensibly. We will not make our hearts heavier than they really are, Agenor. We will not ask how the year has passed, and if it were necessary it should have been as it has. But how about the future? Do you intend to remain here?" "Certainly; for the winter at least. That is, if it pleases you," he answered, quickly. "Otherwise we could go south, to Sicily, perhaps." She shook her head. "How about going north, home, Agenor?" "You know," he replied, with forced composure, "that that is impossible." "No, I do not know it, but I believe you. But are you quite certain about that? You say my father's suit against you, on account of my marriage under age, would bring you under the law. But the punishment cannot be severe, and there is no dishonor attached." "For a man of my position?" She lifted her hand expostulatingly. "For a man in your position it is best to manage your own estates, and, above all, it is seemly to be able to look every one in the face, and not to hide one's self in the most secret corners of a foreign land. If it is only fear of punishment, let me entreat of you to go home, for your own sake." "I have made inquiries," he said, hesitatingly. "If the punishment is really trifling--" "You are a poor liar," she interrupted. "If you had made inquiries, the answer would have been here long ago. It is not so much the dread of punishment as of taking home a Jewish wife." "No, no! how often must I assure you of that?" "What else is it? We are both being ruined by it, Agenor. Cannot you comprehend what I feel when I think we are not able to go home while my father lives, because of his anger. I know he must be very angry, because he has not answered my second letter." "Have you written him?" the count asked, growing very pale. "Yes, a few days before my delivery. I could not restrain my fears. There are words in that letter which, if he does not answer, he must be angry indeed. I implore you, let me try it by word of mouth." He did not hear her. His face became gray, as he thought of the results of this letter. "Everything is lost," he thought. "By this time they know of the fraud."