The young man trembled in every limb as he pressed his hand against Elina's smooth, white forehead; her glossy fair hair was disarranged, and several curls fluttered about Paul's hand, increasing his emotion to such an extent that his hand suddenly slipped and rested on the girl's heart instead of on her forehead. Elina made no objection; she had forgotten all about the blow she had dealt herself. The heart almost always acts as a _derivative_, to use a medical term: when it is well occupied, one is conscious of no pain elsewhere. Paul no longer knew what he was doing. "Forgive me for loving you, mademoiselle," he faltered, in a trembling voice; "I know that it is very presumptuous of me; I am not worthy of you, for I am only a poor messenger; but my love is stronger than my reason, it will last all my life. This confession has escaped me in spite of myself. Pray don't be angry; I will never mention it again!" Elina did not seem at all offended; her cheeks were crimson, and she kept her eyes on the floor, as she faltered in her turn: "I am not angry. It isn't a crime to love a person. Mon Dieu! Monsieur Paul, even before you told me--I don't know why, but I had thought--I had guessed that you loved me, and--and--it made me happy. I don't forbid you to mention it to me--far from it!" "Ah! mademoiselle, how good you are! and how happy I should be, if--if----" He dared not say: "If you loved me, too." But his eyes finished the sentence. Elina, who understood him as well as if he had said the words, replied artlessly: "I thought that you had guessed, too." Paul put her hands to his lips, and covered them with kisses. "Ah! I am permitted to know the most perfect happiness!" he cried; "I envy no man on earth. To be loved by you--I dare not believe it! The thought will increase my courage tenfold. I will work harder than ever, so that I can save money; and if I could offer you a comfortable existence; if I could save enough to have a little home of our own; if---- But, no, it is impossible; I can never hope for anything of the kind." Paul's face became sad once more, and he looked away from Elina. But she took his hand and pressed it softly, saying: "Well, well! why are you so sad, all of a sudden? I feel so happy! Do you think that I am ambitious, pray, and that I won't be content with whatever you can offer me? It is very bad of you to think that." "No, mademoiselle; it isn't money that I am thinking of. I am very sure that you are like me, and that you don't care about that. But it is--it is---- Oh! mademoiselle, I will tell you everything, for I do not want to deceive you; and no matter what it costs me to make the confession, you shall know what I am; then you will see that I am not worthy of your love." "Mon Dieu! what do you mean? You frighten me! Have you done anything wrong?"