paid her all sorts of attentions, love, and consideration, my name would have been such that her reputation would not have received the slightest stain, the suspicions of her husband would never have been excited: whilst, now, she is all but at the mercy of such an ass as M. Charles Robert, who, I fear, will become the more indiscreet in proportion as he has the less right to be so. And then, too, who knows if, in spite of the dangers she has risked, the heart of Madame d'Harville will always remain free? Any return to her husband is henceforward impossible. Young, handsome, courted, with a disposition sympathising with all who suffer, what dangers, what shoals and quicksands, lie before her! For M. d'Harville, what anguish and what deep chagrin! At the same time jealous of and in love with his wife, who cannot subdue the disgust and fright which he excited in her on their nuptials,--what a lot is his!" Clémence, with her forehead hidden by her hands, her eyes brimful of tears, and her cheek reddened by embarrassment, avoided Rodolph's look, such pain had the disclosure cost her. "Ah, now," said Rodolph, after a long silence, "I can understand the cause of M. d'Harville's sadness, which I could not before account for. I can imagine his regrets--" "His regrets!" exclaimed Clémence; "say his remorse, monseigneur, if he have any, for never was such a crime more coolly meditated." "A crime, madame?" "What else is it, my lord, to bind to yourself in indissoluble bonds a young girl, who confides in your honour, when you are fatally stricken with a malady which inspires fear and horror? What else is it, to devote with certainty an unhappy child to similar misery? What forced M. d'Harville to make two victims? A blind, insensate passion? No; he found my birth, my fortune, and my person, to his taste. He wished to make a convenient marriage, because, doubtless, a bachelor's life wearied him." "Madame, at least pity him." "Pity him? If you wish pity, pray let it be bestowed on my child. Poor victim of this odious union, what nights and days have I passed near her! What tears have not her misfortunes wrung from me!" "But her father suffers from the same unmerited afflictions." "Yet it is that father who has condemned her to a sickly infancy, a withering youth, and, if she should survive, to a life of isolation and misery, for she will never marry. Ah, no! I love her too well to expose her to the chance of one day's weeping over her own offspring, similarly smitten, as I weep over her. I have suffered too much from treachery, to render myself guilty of, or an accomplice in, such wickedness!" "You are right; the vengeance of your mother-in-law was really atrocious. But patience, and perhaps in your turn you will be avenged," said Rodolph, after a moment's reflection. "What do you mean, my lord?" inquired Clémence, astonished at the change in his voice.