That night as I sat before the huge log fire in the hall with Moro the hound--I found out his name from Pierre--for the first time for many days my mind was at rest, and I began to feel also, for the first time, the glow that comes to the heart when one is able to help one's fellow creatures. I knew I was young and inexperienced, that my life, especially within the last year in the poisonous air of the Court, had been made up of frivolities and follies that had brought their own sharp punishment with them, yet I had always in my mind the desire for a nobler life, where my wealth could be used to help the distressed, and as far as it could go to add to the happiness of others. So far so good; but there was my own happiness and that of de Lorgnac to think of. There was a great pity in my heart for him; but was it right to mistake pity for love, and give myself wholly to a man to make him happy, to my own sorrow? For the life of me I could not see this. I felt that a man who would accept such a sacrifice would be unworthy of it. But Blaise de Lorgnac was not of those who would do this. He was true metal. Was there another man who would have acted as he did--whose love was so generous and yet so strong? I doubt it. I well knew the profession of a man's love, that swore it was ready to die for its object; but was unable to abandon or to forego anything in its selfishness. But the love that was, as it were, in the hollow of my hand was not as this; and then I began to see the hidden secret of my own heart, and called out aloud, "Come back, de Lorgnac. Come back!" But the echo of the vaulted roof was my only answer. Yet that night I slept a happy woman, for I knew what it was now to love.