down my cheeks, as on those evenings among the mountains when he sang me a ballad composed for me in the morning. A few words which I overheard from the mouth of one of his friends increased my depression and my disgust to an intolerable degree. Among Leoni's twelve intimate associates, the Vicomte de Chalm, who called himself an _émigré_ Frenchman, was the one whose attentions were most offensive to me. He was the oldest of them all, and perhaps the cleverest; but underneath his exquisite manners I detected a sort of cynicism which often revolted me. He was satirical, cold-blooded and insolent; furthermore, he was a man without morals and without heart; but I knew nothing of that, and he displeased me, apart from that. One evening when I was on the balcony, hidden from him by the silk curtains, I heard him say to the Venetian marquis: "Why, where's Juliette?"--That mode of speaking of me brought the blood to my cheeks; I kept perfectly still and listened.--"I don't know," the Venetian replied. "Why, are you so much in love with her?"--"Not too much," was the reply, "but enough."--"And Leoni?"--"Leoni will turn her over to me one of these days."--"What! his own wife?"--"Nonsense, marquis! are you mad?" replied the viscount; "she is a girl he seduced at Brussels; when he has had enough of her, and that will be before long, I will gladly take charge of her. If you want her next after me, marquis, put your name down."--"Many thanks," replied the marquis; "I know how you deprave women, and I should be afraid to succeed you." I heard no more; I leaned over the balustrade half-dead, and, hiding my face in my shawl, wept with rage and shame. That same night I called Leoni into my room, and demanded satisfaction for the way I was treated by his friends. He took the insult with a coolness which dealt my heart a mortal blow.--"You are a little fool," he said to me; "you don't know what men are; their thoughts are indiscreet and their words still more so; the rakes are the best of them. A strong woman should laugh at their airs instead of losing her temper." I fell upon a chair and burst into tears, crying;--"O mother! mother! how low has your daughter fallen!" Leoni exerted himself to soothe me, and succeeded only too quickly. He knelt at my feet, kissed my hands and my arms, implored me to treat with scorn a foolish remark and to think of nothing but him and his love. "Alas!" said I, "what am I to think when your friends flatter themselves that they can pick me up as they do your old pipes when you want them no longer." "Juliette," he replied, "wounded pride makes you bitter and unjust. I have been a libertine, as you know; I have often told you of my youthful disorders; but I thought that I had purified myself in the air of our valley. My friends are still living the life that I used to lead; they know nothing of the six months we passed in Switzerland; they could never understand them. But ought you to misinterpret and forget them?"