"What want you?" she inquired sharply. "Godmother, a messenger has just brought me a cover addressed to me, in which was a letter for you." Paula took the letter and shuddered as she did so. She recognised De Morville's writing. The note contained only these words,-- "Circumstances, madame, force me to an extreme step. At any risk I address this note to your young companion. A fearful and final blow has overwhelmed the unhappy man to whom you have already deigned to extend your hand, and he has not despaired of at least your pity. This very day, with the magic words, _Faust_ and _Childe Harold_, you can, if not restore his life, at least soothe his agony." For a moment Madame de Hansfeld did not fully comprehend the purport of this letter. Then suddenly addressing herself to Iris,-- "What is to-day?" "Thursday, godmother." "Thursday! no, surely not," said Madame de Hansfeld. "I thought--but----" she added, with anxiety, "is not this mid-Lent?" "Yes, godmother; I have seen some masquers pass along the streets." "Oh, I understand--I understand," exclaimed Paula, and hastening to her secrétaire she wrote rapidly,-- "This evening between twelve and one--at the Opera in the same place as before. _Faust_ and _Childe Harold_! a green riband at the hood of the Domino." Then sealing and giving the note to Iris, she said to her,-- "This is the answer: give it to the messenger." Iris left the room. * * * * * That evening at half-past twelve, at the Opera ball, Leon de Morville and Madame de Hansfeld, both masked as they had been at their first interview, met at the end of the corridor of the second circle in the left of the audience, and entered the anteroom of the stage-box in which they had had their first and last conversation. CHAPTER XXXIX THE MARRIAGE Madame de Hansfeld was horror-struck at the change in M. de Morville's features, and the expression of despairing grief which agitated them. "Alas! alas! what can thus distress you?" she exclaimed, throwing her mask at her feet. "One word first," said De Morville; "I was not then deceived: this mysterious friend, who wrote to me without revealing her name----" "Was I; yes, yes, your heart guessed rightly; but in heaven's name what disturbs you thus! is your life menaced?" "Every thing is menaced,--my life, my reason, my love, my honour." "What mean you?" "I mean that I will kill myself,--I mean that the worst passions are contending within me,--I mean that I do not even recognise myself,--I mean that to my love for you I will sacrifice all that is most dear, most holy, most sacred amongst men, even if I become perjured and a parricide!" "Oh! how you frighten me!" "Paula, do you love me as I love you?" "Am I not here?" "Then you do love me?" "Yes, oh yes!" "Paula, let us fly; come--come." "And your oaths?" "Unheeded!" "Your mother?" "Forsaken!" "Ah! what do you say?" "Come--I say. This love is fatal; our destiny will be thus accomplished."