a great table over against the picture of the Siege of Mets, in
which was the portrait of the Duke de Nemours; she sat down and
set herself to look upon that portrait, with an attention and
thoughtfulness which love only can give.

It is impossible to express what Monsieur de Nemours felt at this
moment; to see, at midnight, in the finest place in the world, a
lady he adored, to see her without her knowing that he saw her,
and to find her wholly taken up with things that related to him,
and to the passion which she concealed from him; this is what was
never tasted nor imagined by any other lover.

The Duke was so transported and beside himself, that he continued
motionless, with his eyes fixed on Madam de Cleves, without
thinking how precious his time was; when he was a little
recovered, he thought it best not to speak to her till she came
into the garden, and he imagined he might do it there with more
safety, because she would be at a greater distance from her
women; but finding she stayed in the bower, he resolved to go in
: when he was upon the point of doing it, what was his confusion;
how fearful was he of displeasing her, and of changing that
countenance, where so much sweetness dwelt, into looks of anger
and resentment!

To come to see Madam de Cleves without being seen by her had no
impudence in it, but to think of showing himself appeared very
unwise; a thousand things now came into his mind which he had not
thought of before; it carried in it somewhat extremely bold and
extravagant, to surprise in the middle of the night a person to
whom he had never yet spoke of his passion. He thought he had no