"Godmother, do you remember my words? When you desire that the thought which you dare not avow to yourself be realised, without either you or myself taking the slightest part in its execution, give me this pin,--a few days afterwards and there will be nothing left for you to desire. Since I spoke to you, the idea has taken root and sprung in the heart in which I had sown it,--it has blossomed, and now it is ripe,--once more, that pin and you shall marry M. de Morville." "That pin?" said Madame de Hansfeld, turning pale, and taking from the pincushion the ornament, which she contemplated for some moments with anxiety and alarm. "That pin!" replied Iris, extending her hand to take it, her eyes shining with savage brilliancy. Madame de Hansfeld, without raising her eyes, said in a low and agitated voice,-- "What you say. Iris, is a wicked jest, is it not? It is impossible,--how could you?" "Give me the pin, and do not you heed the rest." "I should be mad to believe you." And as she spoke, Paula, resting on her elbow on the mantel-piece, still retaining the pin, had mechanically, and, as if playing with it, placed it close to the hand of Iris extended on the marble slab. The Bohemian seized it quickly. The princess, alarmed, snatched it from her with violence, exclaiming,-- "No, no: that would be horrible. Oh, never, never! Die first all my dearest hopes!" CHAPTER XL THE BLACK BOOK Two days after the last interview between Madame de Hansfeld and De Morville at the Opera ball, Iris had again taken, as she promised, the _Black Book_ to De Brévannes, who read therein the following lines, which, as before, he attributed to the princess:-- "I am so troubled at this meeting, that I can scarcely collect my thoughts. I am afraid to recall what I have promised to M. de Brévannes. I have given him cause to suspect, perhaps...... "What, then, can be this man's power? I went to meet him quite resolved to display the most pitiless coldness; and yet, scarcely did I see him but I forgot all--even his threats! "What fatality has brought him here for my misfortune? "No, no, I shall never love him! "I am horrified at myself. What! in presence of Raphael's murderer I have not felt either hatred or fury! Oh, shame, shame upon me! he saw my weakness. "Alas! what am I to do? When I hear his voice, when his ardent look is fixed upon me, my firmest resolutions forsake me,--I only think of listening to him, of looking at him. "He is so handsome, with that manly and bold beauty, which the first time I saw him made upon me so deep, so lasting an impression! Every thing in him bespeaks one of those men so passionately energetic, who love as I would be loved, as I never have been loved. Oh! if my will and his were united, at what a pitch of happiness might we not arrive! "Blessed be this book! I can say to it what I dare not reveal to any human creature,--what I dare not even utter aloud.