She was so innocent that she had no idea of the torture she was inflicting, and he saw this so plainly that he could not so much as have the satisfaction of finding fault with her; yet he asked himself whether in the best woman’s heart there was not a foundation of cruelty, of unconscious ferocity. He felt the tears start to his eyes; he scarcely could restrain them; he abruptly bowed his head, and began to examine a beautiful horned beetle, which was just crossing the gravel-path at a quick pace, apparently having some very important affairs to regulate. When M. Langis raised his head his eyes were dry, his face serene, his lips smiling. “It is very certain,” he observed, “that two years ago I must have appeared supremely ridiculous to you. This little playmate of old, this foolish little Camille, to attempt to transform himself into a husband! The pretension was absurd indeed.” “Not at all,” she replied; “but I thought at once that it was a mistake. Little Camilles are apt to be hot-headed and fanciful; they are subject to self-deceptions regarding their sentiments. Friendship and love, however, are two entirely different things! I once said to Mlle. Moiseney that a woman never should marry an intimate friend, because it would be a sure way of losing him as such, and friends are good to keep.” “Bah! How much do you care now for yours? I find my role very modest, very insignificant. Open the trap-door--it is time for me to disappear.” “Bad counsel! I shall not open the trap-door. One always has need of friends. I can readily imagine the possibility of the very happiest married woman needing some advice or assistance that she could not ask of her husband, for husbands do not understand everything. If ever such a thing happens to me, Camille, I shall turn to you.” “Agreed!” he cried; “to help you out of embarrassment, I would run, if necessary, all the way from Transylvania.” He held out his right hand, which she shook warmly. At this moment they heard a step that Mlle. Moriaz at once recognised, and Count Larinski appeared from the walk bordering the house. Antoinette hastened to meet him, and led him forward by laying hold of the tip of his glove, which he was in the act of drawing off. “Gentlemen,” said she, “I do not need to present you to each other; you are already acquainted.” It is a very difficult thing to lead two men who do not like each other into conversation: the present effort proved a total failure. Fortunately for all parties, M. Moriaz shortly made his appearance at the end of the terrace, and M. Langis arose to join him. Antoinette remained alone with Samuel Brohl, who at once rather brusquely asked: “Has M. Langis the intention of remaining here forever?” “He has only just arrived,” she replied. “And you will send him away soon?” “I thought so little of sending him away that I asked him to dinner, in order to give you an opportunity of becoming more fully acquainted with him.”