"'Now, is not life at a deadlock for me?'

"'Life as you have made it, I replied. 'But not the life I propose to
make for you; for, if you choose, you may be very happy. . . .'

"'How?' said she; her whole person was a question.

"'Your letter is in the Count's hands.'

"Honorine started like a frightened doe, sprang to a few paces off,
walked down the garden, turned about, remained standing for some
minutes, and finally went in to sit alone in the drawing-room, where I
joined her, after giving her time to get accustomed to the pain of
this poniard thrust.

"'You--a friend? Say rather a traitor! A spy, perhaps, sent by my
husband.'

"Instinct in women is as strong as the perspicacity of great men.

"'You wanted an answer to your letter, did you not? And there was but
one man in the world who could write it. You must read the reply, my
dear Countess; and if after reading it you still find that your life
is a deadlock, the spy will prove himself a friend; I will place you
in a convent whence the Count's power cannot drag you. But, before
going there, let us consider the other side of the question. There is
a law, alike divine and human, which even hatred affects to obey, and
which commands us not to condemn the accused without hearing his
defence. Till now you have passed condemnation, as children do, with
your ears stopped. The devotion of seven years has its claims. So you