"'No,' I replied, wringing her hand, so that she cried out. 'You love
your husband. I leave to-morrow.'

"And I rushed away, leaving my uncle, to whom she said:

"'Why, what is the matter with your nephew?'

"The good Abbe completed my work by pointing to his head and heart, as
much as to say, 'He is mad, madame; you must forgive him!' and with
all the more truth, because he really thought it.

"Six days after, I set out with an appointment as vice-consul in
Spain, in a large commercial town, where I could quickly qualify to
rise in the career of a consul, to which I now restricted my ambition.
After I had established myself there, I received this letter from the
Count:--

"'MY DEAR MAURICE,--

"'If I were happy, I should not write to you, but I have entered on a
new life of suffering. I have grown young again in my desires, with
all the impatience of a man of forty, and the prudence of a
diplomatist, who has learned to moderate his passion. When you left I
had not yet been admitted to the _pavillon_ in the Rue Saint-Maur, but
a letter had promised me that I should have permission--the mild and
melancholy letter of a woman who dreaded the agitations of a meeting.
After waiting for more than a month, I made bold to call, and desired
Gobain to inquire whether I could be received. I sat down in a chair
in the avenue near the lodge, my head buried in my hands, and there I