"Yes," replied Madeleine, with emotion, "he was the best of men. My isolated position and earnest entreaties made me accept his generous offer. The priest came to his bedside to consecrate our union, and the ceremony was hardly over when the hand of the Marquis de Miranda was like ice in my own." "Madeleine, forgive me," said Madame Dutertre, involuntarily, "I have made you sad by recalling such painful memories." "Painful? no, it is with a sweet melancholy that I think of Marquis de Miranda. It is only ingratitude that is bitter to the heart." "And so young still, does not your liberty incommode you? Alone, without family, are you accustomed to this life of isolation?" "I think I am the happiest of women, after you, let it be understood," replied Madeleine, smiling. "And do you never think of marrying again, or rather," added Sophie, smiling in her turn, "of marrying? Because, really, notwithstanding your widowhood, you are a maiden." "I hide nothing from you, Sophie. Ah, well, yes. One time I had a desire to marry,--that was a grand passion, a romance," replied Madeleine, gaily. "Well, as you are free, who prevented this marriage?" "Alas! I saw my hero for five minutes only, and from my balcony." "Only five minutes?" "Not more." "And you loved him at once?" "Passionately." "And you have never seen him since?" "Never! No doubt he has been translated to heaven among his brothers, the archangels, whose ideal beauty he possessed." "Madeleine, are you speaking seriously?" "Listen: six months ago I was in Vienna. I lived in the country situated near one of the suburbs of the city. One morning I was in a kiosk, the window of which looked out upon a field. Suddenly my attention was attracted by the noise of stamping and the clash of swords. I ran to my window; it was a duel." "Oh, my God!"