"Never," replied Eugenie, "never! You have roused a spirit in my bosom, Count d'Aubin, that you knew not existed there--that I knew not myself till this hour. But I feel that it will bear me through everything; and I tell you boldly, and at once, that I would infinitely rather die, were death within my choice, this moment, than be the wife of Philip d'Aubin." D'Aubin bit his lip, and casting his eyes upon the ground, paused for a moment in deep thought, his resolutions and purposes shaken by what he had heard, and his mind once more undecided. "Tell me," he said at length, "tell me, Mademoiselle de Menancourt, if by my application to the Duke of Mayenne the ceremony of our marriage this night, which I see has been announced to you by the Duchess de Montpensier, can be put off to some later period, will you give me the hope, that after a certain time, during which my conduct towards yourself, and towards the world, shall be in every respect irreproachable, I may obtain your hand, without doing that violence to your feelings, which it seems would be the consequence of our present union?" Eugenie turned deadly pale, under the emotion that she felt. The words of the Count d'Aubin offered her the prospect of a temporary relief--offered the means of obtaining invaluable time, during which a thousand changes of circumstances might take place to free her from the difficulties and dangers that surrounded her; but she asked herself, how was this to be bought? By deceit, by the first deceit she had ever been guilty of in life; and though many a casuist might argue, and argue perhaps justly, that she had a right to oppose the unjustifiable means employed against her, by any method in her power to use, the heart of Eugenie de Menancourt was not one that could admit such reasoning in regard to honesty and truth. She would not have bought her life by deceit; and though perhaps in the present instance she might feel that more than life itself was at stake, she would not sacrifice her own good opinion even for that. "No, Monsieur d'Aubin," she replied, after a long and agitated pause--"No!--I will not deceive you. No time can change my opinion or determination. I never can be your wife. If you will desist from your present pursuit--if you will recollect the former generosity of your sentiments--if you will consider your own honour, and my peace of mind, and set me free from this persecution, you will merit and obtain my deepest gratitude, my thanks, and my admiration; but, Philip d'Aubin, you never can have more."