"I love you, my dear Denise; do not doubt my love; but shall I join my poverty to your comfort, after I have lost my money by my own fault? shall I bestow on you the hand of a man who has not even any knowledge of the agricultural labors by which your little property can be made profitable? No, Denise, I am not worthy to be your husband, I cannot make up my mind to live at the expense of a woman who would sacrifice a happy future for me. Doubtless your kind heart led you to offer me your hand; perhaps you even pretended to love me so as to induce me to accept your generous offer; but I must not do it. Adieu, Denise! If I should become rich again, I shall fly to you; but I have no hope of it now. Adieu! I shall come to see you when I have strength enough to look upon you as my sister." The girl turned deadly pale and dropped the letter, crying: "He doesn't believe in my love!" "Well, where's my kind friend? Did he write you where he's gone?" "Alas! he has abandoned us, he has run away from us, he thinks we don't love him!" Denise burst into tears; the child ran to her arms and she pressed him to her heart, sobbing: "Oh! I shall die of grief, and you must tell him that he's the cause of it; then perhaps he'll believe that I loved him!" XXVIII VIRGINIE AGAIN It was very early in the morning when Auguste left the pretty little cottage where he had passed a fortnight which he looked upon as the happiest period in his life. It was not without a mighty effort that he tore himself away from Denise; it requires a deal of courage to leave a woman whom one loves, when she has voluntarily offered one her heart. But we must remember that Auguste had been rich, and that every feeling of pride was not extinct within his breast. His pride could not accustom itself to the idea of offering Denise the hand of a penniless unfortunate; and furthermore he feared that it was from gratitude for what he had done for Coco that the girl offered him her hand. A heart bruised by misfortune is easily frightened; dread of humiliation makes us unjust; a benefaction seems like almsgiving, and consolation is nothing more than condescending pity.