If there ever was a moment in his fatal career when the young man was really worthy of admiration, it was this. His love for Madame de Tecle, however unworthy of her it might be, was nevertheless great. It was the only true passion he had ever felt. At the moment when he saw this love, the triumph of which he thought certain, escape him forever, he was not only wounded in his pride but was crushed in his heart. Yet he took the stroke like a gentleman. His agony was well borne. His first bitter words, checked at once, alone betrayed what he suffered. He was as pitiless for his own sorrows as he sought to be for those of others. He indulged in none of the common injustice habitual to discarded lovers. He recognized the decision of Madame de Tecle as true and final, and was not tempted for a moment to mistake it for one of those equivocal arrangements by which women sometimes deceive themselves, and of which men always take advantage. He realized that the refuge she had sought was inviolable. He neither argued nor protested against her resolve. He submitted to it, and nobly kissed the noble hand which smote him. As to the miracle of courage, chastity, and faith by which Madame de Tecle had transformed and purified her love, he cared not to dwell upon it. This example, which opened to his view a divine soul, naked, so to speak, destroyed his theories. One word which escaped him, while passing to his own house, proved the judgment which he passed upon it, from his own point of view. "Very childish," he muttered, "but sublime!" On returning home Camors found a letter from General Campvallon, notifying him that his marriage with Mademoiselle d'Estrelles would take place in a few days, and inviting him to be present. The marriage was to be strictly private, with only the family to assist at it. Camors did not regret this invitation, as it gave him the excuse for some diversion in his thoughts, of which he felt the need. He was greatly tempted to go away at once to diminish his sufferings, but conquered this weakness. The next evening he passed at the chateau of M. des Rameures; and though his heart was bleeding, he piqued himself on presenting an unclouded brow and an inscrutable smile to Madame de Tecle. He announced the brief absence he intended, and explained the reason. "You will present my best wishes to the General," said M. des Rameures. "I hope he may be happy, but I confess I doubt it devilishly." "I shall bear your good wishes to the General, Monsieur." "The deuce you will! 'Exceptis excipiendis', I hope," responded the old gentleman, laughing. As for Madame de Tecle, to tell of all the tender attentions and exquisite delicacies, that a sweet womanly nature knows so well how to apply to heal the wounds it has inflicted--how graciously she glided into her maternal relation with Camors--to tell all this would require a pen wielded by her own soft hands.