that has passed nights with a man, not her husband?" "No,
sir," replied she, "it is not me you speak of; I never spent a
night nor a moment with the Duke de Nemours; he never saw me in
private, I never suffered him to do it, nor would give him a
hearing. I'll take all the oaths . . ." "Speak no more of
it," said he interrupting her, "false oaths or a confession
would perhaps give me equal pain."

Madam de Cleves could not answer him; her tears and her grief
took away her speech; at last, struggling for utterance, "Look
on me at least, hear me," said she; "if my interest only were
concerned I would suffer these reproaches, but your life is at
stake; hear me for your own sake; I am so innocent, truth pleads
so strongly for me, it is impossible but I must convince you."
"Would to God you could!" cried he; "but what can you say? the
Duke de Nemours, has not he been at Colomiers with his sister?
And did not he pass the two foregoing nights with you in the
garden in the forest?" "If that be my crime," replied she,
"it is easy to justify myself; I do not desire you to believe
me, believe your servants and domestics; ask them if I went into
the garden the evening before Monsieur de Nemours came to
Colomiers, and if I did not go out, of it the night before two
hours sooner than I used to do." After this she told him how
she imagined she had seen somebody in the garden, and
acknowledged that she believed it to be the Duke de Nemours; she
spoke to him with so much confidence, and truth so naturally
persuades, even where it is not probable, that Monsieur de Cleves
was almost convinced of her innocence. "I don't know," said
he, "whether I ought to believe you; I am so near death, that I
would not know anything that might make me die with reluctance;