"I told Gerald my feelings with the utmost frankness. On my side there was not only love, but almost gratitude, for without him life would have seemed intolerable to me. 'We are both free to choose,' I said to Gerald; 'our positions are equal. We shall both have to work every day for our daily bread, and that gratifies my pride, for idleness imposed upon a wife is a cruel humiliation to her. Our lot will be humble, even precarious, perhaps, Gerald,' I added, 'but with courage, and strong in our mutual love and trust, we can defy the worst misfortunes.'" "What noble words, Herminie! How proud M. Gerald must have been of your love! But as you have every chance of happiness, why these tears and your evident despair?" "Do you not think that I was more than justified in loving him?" asked the poor girl, trying hard to repress her sobs. "Was not mine a true and noble love. Oh, tell me, is it possible that any one can accuse me--" But Herminie could not finish the sentence, for sobs choked her utterance. "Accuse you? _Mon Dieu!_ Accuse you of what? Are you not as free as M. Gerald? Does he not love you as much as you love him? Are your positions not equal?" "No, no, our positions are not equal," replied Herminie, dejectedly. "What is that you say?" "No, our positions are not equal, alas! and that is my chief misfortune, for in order to equalise our positions apparently, Gerald deceived me as to his real station in life." "Great Heavens! Who is he, then?" "The Duc de Senneterre." "The Duc de Senneterre!" exclaimed Ernestine, filled with terror for Herminie, as she remembered that Gerald was one of the three suitors for her--Ernestine's--hand, and that she was to meet him at the ball on the following Thursday. Consequently, he must have deceived Herminie in the most shameless manner, as he was, at that very time, endeavouring to marry a rich heiress. Herminie attributed her friend's intense dismay and astonishment entirely to the startling revelation that had just been made, however, and asked: "Tell me, Ernestine, am I not, indeed, unfortunate?" "But such a deception on his part was infamous. How did you discover it?" "M. de Senneterre himself, feeling unable to endure the life of deceit his first falsehood imposed upon him, but not daring to make the confession himself, entrusted the unpleasant task to M. Olivier." "It should be some comfort to you that M. de Senneterre at least made this confession of his own accord," said Ernestine. "Yes, and, in spite of the grief it has caused me, I see in it a proof of the loyalty I so admired in him." "Loyalty!" exclaimed Ernestine, bitterly. "Loyalty, and yet he deserts you!" "Deserts me? Far from it. On the contrary, he renews his offer of his hand." "He, M. de Senneterre?" exclaimed Ernestine, in even greater astonishment "But, in that case, why are you so unhappy, Herminie?" she added.