Chérubin seated himself at his desk again and Daréna dictated: “O woman more than adored! I burn, I wither, I languish! Your eyes are the flame, your smile the brazier, my heart the conflagration! You have set fire to my whole being. A word of love, of hope, or I will not answer for the consequences--I will kill myself at your feet, before your eyes, in your arms! Derision! damnation! if you do not answer!” Chérubin ceased to write. “Great heaven, my dear count!” he exclaimed; “why, that is horrible!” “It is what you need.” “And then, I must admit that I don’t clearly understand the letter.” “If you understood it, the charm would be destroyed.” “Why not write simply, as one speaks?” “Because three-fourths of the women, who are impervious to seduction by what is simple and natural, are delighted when a man seems to have lost his head for love of them. Trust me; this note will deliver the heart of the lovely Pole into your keeping. Sign that and give it to me.” Chérubin did as he was told. “By the way,” said Daréna, as he took the letter, “don’t mention this intrigue to your Monsieur de Monfréville.” “Why not?” “In the first place, because an intrigue with such distinguished persons as these Poles requires to be conducted with the utmost secrecy. Monfréville is very inquisitive and very talkative; he would want to see the lovely foreigner and that would spoil everything.” “But you are very much mistaken; Monsieur de Monfréville is neither inquisitive nor talkative; on the contrary, he is a most sensible man, and he gives me excellent advice.” Daréna bit his lips, seeing that it was useless for him to try to destroy Chérubin’s good opinion of Monfréville. “Monfréville, sensible, virtuous!” he retorted in a sarcastic tone. “At all events, he hasn’t always been; I remember a time when he was the greatest ne’er-do-well; nothing was talked about but his conquests. To be sure, it was fifteen or eighteen years ago. When the devil grows old, he turns hermit. For my part, I am not changed, at all events; as I always have been, so I propose to remain; I prefer that. However, my dear fellow, I tell you again that, if I consent to act for you in your love-affair with the young Pole, I do it solely on account of my friendship for you; but you understand that the slightest indiscretion would compromise me. I demand secrecy, or I will have nothing to do with it.” Chérubin swore that he would not mention his new conquest to a soul, and Daréna left him, promising to return as soon as he should have anything to tell him.