--I had said to you, `So she is very beautiful?´ And you answered sadly, `No.--She has a good personality?--She is foolish.--So it is her talents that sway you?--She has but one.--And this rare, sublime, marvelous talent?--Is to make me happier in her arms than I have ever been with any other woman.´ But Mademoiselle de La Chaux, the good, sensible Mademoiselle de La Chaux, secretly counted on, by instinct, unbeknownst to him, the good fortune that you once knew, and which made you say of la Deschamps: `If this unfortunate girl, if this despicable woman insists on kicking me out, I will grab a gun and blow my brains out in her foyer.´ You said that, correct? --I said it; and even now I do not know why I did not do it. --Admit it, then. --I will admit to anything if it pleases you. --My friend, the wisest amongst us is much happier not having encountered any woman, beautiful or ugly, clever or foolish, that would drive him mad enough for the Petites-Maisons. We men complain a great deal, we criticize them occasionally. We watch the years go by like so many moments, carried off by the evil that shadows us; and we only think to cower at the strength of certain natural attractions, especially those of us with sensitive souls or ardent imaginations. The spark that alights by chance on a powder keg does not produce so terrible an effect. The finger ready to light the fatal spark over you or me is perhaps raised. M. d´Hérouville, wanting to speed up his project, greatly overworked his colleagues. Gardeil´s health suffered for it. To lighten his load Mademoiselle de La Chaux learned Hebrew, and while her lover rested she spent a portion of the night translating and transcribing bits of Hebrew. It came time to tackle the Greek authors; Mademoiselle de La Chaux rushed to perfect her then superficial knowledge of this language: while Gardeil slept she was busy translating and copying passages of Xenophon and Thucydides. She added Italian and English to her knowledge of Greek and Hebrew. Her English was so good that she could translate Hume´s first essays on metaphysics into French, a work whose difficult subject matter added infinitely to the difficulty of the idiom. When study exhausted her resources she amused herself by writing music. When she feared her lover might be overcome with ennui she sang. I am not exaggerating anything, as can be attested to by M. Le Camus, doctor of medicine, who consoled her when she was troubled and cared for her when she was in need, who remained by her side in the attic that her poverty had relegated her to, and who closed her eyes when she died. But I am forgetting one of her first misfortunes: the persecution that she had to suffer at the hands of a family outraged by the scandalous and public relationship. Both truth and lies were employed to dispose of her liberty in a humiliating manner. Priests and her parents pursued her from quarter to quarter, from