"I don't know whether it is less or more--I don't know how much I love her; and I would give anything in the world to cease thinking of her! But I cannot--do what I will, her image is always here. I forget that she flirted with me--that she pretended to love me, only to throw me over the next minute. I say to myself that all women try to please, and that they cannot love all the men they have fascinated. I say to myself that this Monsieur Auguste Monleard offered her a brilliant fortune, and all the pleasures, all the enjoyment, all the luxury, in which, to a young woman, the happiness of life consists.--I say all this to myself, and I understand perfectly how she could have refused the poor clerk's hand to accept that of the man who was wealthy and distinguished. So that, if I am unhappy, I can blame nothing but fortune--and Fanny is so pretty, so fascinating, so well worthy to shine in society! She will never be mine, and yet I love her--yes, I still love her! They say that men don't know the meaning of constancy; but you see that that isn't true, Adolphine; you see that there are some who can love faithfully--and, unluckily, they are the ones who are not loved." Adolphine did not reply for some time; she was suffocating, she could not keep back the tears which dimmed her sight. Gustave saw them; he seized her hand and pressed it, crying: "You weep--dear sister!--my unhappiness makes you shed tears. Oh! forgive me for coming here and grieving you by the story of my suffering." "Yes--it does grieve me to know that you are unhappy! But, after all, it seems to me that you ought to try--that you do not make enough effort to divert your thoughts; you see, when one has no hope, one ought to forget." "Oh! that makes no difference at all." "Yes, it is possible.--How long since you returned to Paris?" "Only last evening; and, as you see, I came to you at once this morning." "Yes--to talk to me about her!" "I admit it--but to see you, too,--you who have always shown me so much affection, and whom I am so happy to call my sister still!" "Oh! of course--because that was the name you gave me when you were to marry Fanny! But you don't know--I have not dared to tell you that father says that you must not come to our house any more!" "Not come here any more! Why not, pray?" "Why, because of that unfortunate duel----" "Duel! What do you mean? What duel?" "What! you don't know? Hasn't your uncle told you about it?" "I told you that I only arrived last night; my uncle talked about nothing but matters of business, which are of much more importance in his eyes than anything else. Tell me what duel you are talking about?" "Do you remember the man who dined with you on the day of my sister's wedding?" "Yes, a curious creature whom I happened to meet--and who took pity on the state of frenzy I was in at that time." "Was he a friend of yours?"