As she spoke, Valentine fixed upon Léodgard her lovely black eyes, overflowing with love and fear. Thereupon the passion that that woman had previously kindled in the count's heart broke forth into flame, more ardent, more impetuous, more powerful than ever; and he could only fall at her feet, crying: "Forgive you! And you tell me that you love me--you confess that only the passion that you felt for me inspired the wish to be revenged!--Ah! am I not too happy to be so loved by you? If I had met the death that I deserved, my fate would have been an enviable one. It is for me, who refused the happiness that was offered me, to implore your forgiveness!" "Let us not revert to the past.--Léodgard, as I have told you, I love you; and now I can no longer endure the presence of the Marquis de Santoval! If you share my love, I will be yours, but yours alone. Valentine de Mongarcin will never stoop to deceive a man! She will leave that man forever; for, once yours, she will die rather than return to him!--You have heard me, Léodgard. Take me to some other country, beneath a different sky; whither, it matters not to me, provided that I am with you, that I may fly from a man whom I detest, that I may live for you alone, with you alone!--But until then I will not be your mistress; for, I say again, when I have been once in your arms, I will never return to the Marquis de Santoval." The thought of abducting Valentine, of taking her away from her husband, made Léodgard's heart beat fast; he could no longer doubt the love of that woman, who offered to sacrifice her reputation, her honor, her exalted position in society, to be his; and she was so lovely, so young, so fascinating, she promised such a wealth of tenderness and rapture, that the count looked forward with ecstatic delight to the moment when that prospect of love and bliss would become a reality. But a certain reflection occurred to Léodgard's mind and allayed his exaltation in some degree. In these blissful schemes which the imagination conceives, one almost always forgets the most important point, the foundation upon which all the joys of this world rest. Valentine, who had seen the cloud pass across the count's brow, instantly exclaimed: "Ah! you hesitate, I see; what I propose appalls you. You would accept me for your mistress, but you are not willing that your life should be mine, that I should be always with you, that we should part no more; you fear to burden yourself with a new chain! You have for me simply one of those fleeting passions which possession soon allays.--Ah! that is not the way that I love! But if it is so, we should never understand each other. Let us part, monsieur le comte; for I must have as much love as I give; if not, I want nothing!" And Valentine had already started to go away, but Léodgard detained her, kissing her lovely hands with passion, and said: