house to house, for many years reducing her to a solitary and hidden life. She spent her days working for Gardeil. We visited her at night, and in the presence of her lover all her grief, all her worries vanished. --My word! Young, timorous, tenderhearted in the face of so many difficulties. What a happy being. --Happy? Yes, she only ceased to be so when Gardeil was revoltingly ungrateful. --But it is not possible for ingratitude to be the reward for so many exceptional qualities, so many signs of affection, so many sacrifices of every kind! --You are mistaken, Gardeil was ungrateful. One day, Mademoiselle de La Chaux found herself alone in the world, without honor, without support. I assure you, I stayed with her for some time. Doctor Le Camus stayed with her always. --Men! --Who are you talking about? --Gardeil. --You see the villain and you do not see the good man right beside him. That painful and hopeless day she rushed to my quarters. It was morning. She was pale as death. Though she had only discovered her predicament the day before she looked like one who had been suffering for a long time. She was not crying, but one could see that she had cried a lot. She threw herself into an armchair, she did not speak, she could not speak, she held out her arms to me as she cried out. `What is it?´ I asked her. `Has he died?...´ `It is worse: he no longer loves me; he is leaving me...´ --Go on then. --I do not know if I can. I see her, I listen to her, and my eyes fill with tears. `He no longer loves you?...´ `No.´ `He is abandoning you!´ `Oh yes! After all that I have done!... Monsieur, my mind is troubled; have pity on me; do not leave me... above all else do not leave me...´ While uttering these words she had hold of my arm. She was squeezing it tightly, as if near her lay someone who threatened to tear her away and carry her off... `Have no fear, mademoiselle.´ `I fear only myself.´ `What do you need?´ `First, save me from myself... He no longer loves me! I tire him! I annoy him! I bore him! He hates me! He is abandoning me! He is leaving me! He is leaving me!´ This echoed line was followed by a profound silence, and following this silence, convulsive bursts of laughter a thousand times more terrifying than the fits of despair or the groans of agony. Next came tears, cries, inarticulate words, gazes turned towards the sky, trembling lips, a torrent of pain that one must let run its course, which I did. I only began to address her reasoning when I saw that her soul was broken and stunned. So I resumed: `He hates you, he is leaving you? And who told you that?´ `He did.´ `Come, mademoiselle, a little hope and courage. This is no monster...´ `You do not know him; you will know him. This is a monster like no other, like none there ever was.´ `I cannot believe that.´ `You will see for yourself.´ `Does he love another?´ `No.´ `You have not caused him any suspicion, any