"Alas! monsieur, I have nothing in that line to offer you. This evening I can show you some neighbors who resemble the tribes of the Tortoise of the Great Serpent--these are the only natives I can dispose of. At present you will only see my husband, two ladies who are almost widows, and a young lady" ... here Mad. de Lorgeville was seized with a new fit of laughter ... finally she continued: "A young lady whose name you will know later." "I know it already, madame." "Perhaps you do ... to-morrow our company will be increased by two persons, my brother." ... "The handsome Léon!" "Ah you know him!... My brother Léon and his wife." ... I started so violently that I dropped Mad. de Lorgeville's arm--she looked frightened, and I said in a painfully constrained voice: "And his wife.... Mad. de Varèzes?... Ah! I did not know that M. de Varèzes was married." "My brother was married a month ago," said Mad. Lorgeville. "He married Mlle. de Bligny." "Are you certain of that, madame?" This question was asked in a voice and accompanied by an expression of countenance that would have made a painter or musician desperate, even were they Rossini or Delacroix. Mad. de Lorgeville, alarmed a second time by my excited manner, looked at me with commiseration, as if she thought me crazy! Certainly neither my face nor manner indicated sanity. "You ask if I am sure my brother is married!" said Mad. de Lorgeville with petrified astonishment. "You are surely jesting?" "Yes, madame, yes," said I, with an exuberance of gayety, "it is a joke.... I understand it all ... I comprehend everything ... that is to say--I understand nothing ... but your brother, the excellent Léon de Varèzes, is married--that is all I wanted to know.... What a very handsome young man he is!... I suppose, madame, that you opened my note without reading the address ... or did Mlle. de Chateaudun send you here to meet me?" "Mlle. de Chateaudun is not here ... excuse this silly laughter ... the gardener gave your note to one of my guests ... a young lady of sixty-five summers.... Who by the strangest coincidence is named Mlle. de Chantverdun.... Now you can account for my amusement ... Mlle. de Chantverdun is a canoness. She read your letter, and wished for once in her life to enjoy uttering a shriek of alarm and faint at the sight of a love letter; so come monsieur," said Mad. de Lorgeville, smilingly leading me towards the house, "come and make your excuses to Mlle. de Chantverdun, who has recovered her senses and sent me to her rendezvous." Involuntarily, my dear Edgar, I indulged in this short monologue after the manner of the old romancers: O tender love! passion full of intoxication and torment! love that kills and resuscitates! What a terrible vacuum thou must leave in life, when age exiles thee from our heart! Which means that I was resuscitated by Mad. de Lorgeville's last words!