As I was an excellent workman, he gave me, as well as board and lodging, a salary of thirty francs a month, and often gave me to understand that he wished that I were a few years older, that he might give me his daughter in marriage, and surrender to me his business. But the fact was, I was a year younger than Sophie. But it was not that only which rendered a union impossible between us; it was that invincible sorrow, denoting a passion hidden in the depths of her heart. My opinion was, that the young man for whom she entertained this hidden feeling was the Viscount de Malmy. Sophie gave me all that she had promised—sisterly love. It was impossible to be kinder or more affectionate to me than she was. On Sunday, I invariably took her out for a walk, and she never would accept any other arm than mine; but this friendship did not induce her to confide to me the cause of the sorrow which I could plainly see was preying upon her constitution. Sometimes the young nobles came, and, as I have told you, put up at the Brothers Leblanc. On those days, Sophie always found a pretext for not going out with me, taking care that the pretext was plausible. She shut herself up in her chamber, the window of which was exactly opposite the window of the “Bras d’Or,” and stayed there the whole time that the young nobles were at Varennes. More than once, under these circumstances, I had half a mind to get up in the night, and see if the darkness hid any mystery with regard to Sophie and the Viscount, but I always had strength enough to resist the temptation. I thought to myself I had no right to surprise any of her secrets, which, notwithstanding our friendship, she had not thought fit to confide in me. One night, whilst passing along the corridor, I fancied I heard two voices in Sophie’s room; but instead of stopping to listen, I felt ashamed of the action which jealousy prompted me to commit, and I determined, notwithstanding the pangs I suffered, that Sophie should have no reason to suppose that I suspected anything. My grief, undoubtedly, was great; but my pity for her was greater, and I felt that strong as my anguish was, she was preparing for herself an after day of sorrow and remorse. From the 1st to the 15th of June, the visits of M. Malmy and M. Dampierre were more frequent than usual. An instinctive hatred made me keep aloof from M. de Malmy; but the Count, in memory of Father Descharmes, never met me without speaking. But, for the most part, they did not come as far as the Rue de la Basse Cour. M. de Malmy alone, and his friend the Viscount de Courtemont, went to the “Bras d’Or;” the Count de Haus stayed on the top of the Hill des Réligieuses with one of his friends, an old Chevalier of St. Louis, named the Baron de Préfontaine. On the 20th of June, about three o’clock in the afternoon, M. Jean Baptiste arrived.