spite of yourself." "I know nothing can be more difficult than
what I undertake," replied Madam de Cleves; "I distrust my
strength in the midst of my reasons; what I think I owe to the
memory of Monsieur de Cleves would be a weak consideration, if
not supported by the interest of my ease and repose; and the
reasons of my repose have need to be supported by those of my
duty; but though I distrust myself, I believe I shall never
overcome my scruples, nor do I so much as hope to overcome the
inclination I have for you; that inclination will make me
unhappy, and I will deny myself the sight of you, whatever
violence it is to me: I conjure you, by all the power I have
over you, to seek no occasion of seeing me; I am in a condition
which makes that criminal which might be lawful at another time;
decency forbids all commerce between us." Monsieur de Nemours
threw himself at her feet, and gave a loose to all the violent
motions with which he was agitated; he expressed both by his
words and tears the liveliest and most tender passion that ever
heart was touched with; nor was the heart of Madam de Cleves
insensible; she looked upon him with eyes swelled with tears:
"Why was it," cries she, "that I can charge you with Monsieur
de Cleves's death? Why did not my first acquaintance with you
begin since I have been at liberty, or why did not I know you
before I was engaged? Why does fate separate us by such
invincible obstacles?" "There are no obstacles, Madam,"
replied Monsieur de Nemours; "it is you alone oppose my
happiness; you impose on yourself a law which virtue and reason
do not require you to obey." "'Tis true," says she, "I
sacrifice a great deal to a duty which does not subsist but in my
imagination; have patience, and expect what time may produce;
Monsieur de Cleves is but just expired, and that mournful object