that."

She frowned and cast her eyes about her in a strange manner; then she
replied, almost graciously:

"Come to-morrow during the day and I will see you." Then she left me.

The next day at noon I presented myself. I was introduced into a room
with old hangings and antique furniture. I found her alone, seated on a
sofa. I sat down before her.

"Madame," I began, "I come neither to speak of what I suffer, nor to deny
that I love you. You have written me that what has passed between us can
not be forgotten, and that is true; but you say that on that account we
can not meet on the same footing as heretofore, and you are mistaken.
I love you, but I have not offended you; nothing is changed in our
relations since you do not love me. If I am permitted to see you,
responsibility rests with me, and as far as your responsibility is
concerned, my love for you should be sufficient guarantee."

She tried to interrupt me.

"Kindly allow me to finish what I have to say. No one knows better than
I that in spite of the respect I feel for you, and in spite of all the
protestations by which I might bind myself, love is the stronger.
I repeat I do not intend to deny what is in my heart; but you do not
learn of that love to-day for the first time, and I ask you what has
prevented me from declaring it up to the present time? The fear of
losing you; I was afraid I would not be permitted to see you, and that is
what has happened. Make a condition that the first word I shall speak,