It was Lucile--Lucile, whom I had not seen since the fatal day. Her presence seemed to revive all the agony that I had felt then. I cannot describe the pain that the sight of her caused me. My features must have expressed very clearly what I felt, for Caroline instantly said to me: “Mon Dieu! what is the matter? You must know that woman.” “Yes, I--that is to say, long ago, but not now.” “What did she ever do to you that the sight of her should upset you to this extent?” “Nothing; but for some unknown reason, when I looked at her, I remembered--Sometimes one cannot account for one’s sensations.” At that moment the quadrille came to an end. Lucile and her partner came in our direction. Great heaven! she sat down a few feet away; she saw me and gazed fixedly at me. I could not endure that woman’s presence, her eyes; I rose abruptly, forced my way through the throng, left the ball, and did not stop until I reached a place where I was alone. So I was destined never to be happy, never to lose the memory of my sufferings! When I had decided to forgive Eugénie, to give my children a mother, the sight of that Lucile must needs recall everything that I wanted to forget. How she stared at me! She seemed to enjoy the torture, the shame that her presence caused me. Malice gleamed in her eyes.--Ah! I had hoped that I never should see Lucile again! I threw myself down on the turf and tried to be calm. After all, my chance meeting with that woman would make no change in my plans. I would learn to control myself better in the future; but I would travel a hundred leagues, if necessary, to avoid meeting Lucile. I lay in that spot nearly half an hour. At last, feeling more tranquil, I rose; but I could not decide whether I would return to the ball. Ernest was waiting for me, no doubt. I walked a few steps, then stopped, for I did not want to see Lucile again. While I was hesitating, a woman came toward me from the direction of the dance. She was almost running. I waited anxiously.--Ah! it was Caroline. She joined me and hung upon my arm, saying: “I have found you at last! I have been looking for you everywhere.--Oh! how glad I am! But come--let us go into the woods, so that I may speak out to you at last. I have so many things to say to you! I told my uncle not to be worried, that you would bring me home.” I listened to Caroline in amazement; some extraordinary change seemed to have taken place in her; she was not at all the same person whom I had left a short time before. She took my arm and pressed it gently; she seemed intensely agitated, but it was evidently with joy. We went into the woods, and Caroline said, gazing affectionately into my face: