grand and even sacred,--to explain all these things would simply be to
attempt to analyze the sublime. People enjoy such poetry as they enjoy
that of Paganini; they do not explain to themselves the medium, they
know the cause is in the spirit that remains invisible.

Madame de Chaulieu bowed her head in salutation of Helene and her
aunt; then, saying to Diane, in a pure and equable tone of voice,
without a trace of emotion, "Is it not time to dress, duchess?" she
made her exit, accompanied by her daughter-in-law and Mademoiselle
d'Herouville. As she left the room she spoke in an undertone to the
old maid, who pressed her arm, saying, "You are charming,"--which
meant, "I am all gratitude for the service you have just done us."
After that, Mademoiselle d'Herouville returned to the salon to play
her part of spy, and her first glance apprised Canalis that the
duchess had made him no empty threat. That apprentice in diplomacy
became aware that his science was not sufficient for a struggle of
this kind, and his wit served him to take a more honest position, if
not a worthier one. When Ernest returned, bringing Modeste's
handkerchief, the poet seized his arm and took him out on the terrace.

"My dear friend," he said, "I am not only the most unfortunate man in
the world, but I am also the most ridiculous; and I come to you to get
me out of the hornet's nest into which I have run myself. Modeste is a
demon; she sees my difficulty and she laughs at it; she has just
spoken to me of a fragment of a letter of Madame de Chaulieu, which I
had the folly to give her; if she shows it I can never make my peace
with Eleonore. Therefore, will you at once ask Modeste to send me back
that paper, and tell her, from me, that I make no pretensions to her
hand. Say I count upon her delicacy, upon her propriety as a young
girl, to behave to me as if we had never known each other. I beg her