we only hurt ourselves with our anger."

"But," said Mary, "love is founded on respect and esteem; and when that
is gone"----

"Why, then," said Madame, "we are very sorry,--but we love yet. Do we
stop loving ourselves when we have lost our own self-respect? No! it is
so disagreeable to see, we shut our eyes and ask to have the bandage
put on,--you know _that_, poor little heart! You can think how it would
have been with you, if you had found that _he_ was not what you
thought."

The word struck home to Mary's consciousness,--but she sat down and
took her friend in her arms with an air self-controlled, serious,
rational.

"I see and feel it all, dear Virginie, but I must stand firm for you.
You are in the waves, and I on the shore. If you are so weak at heart,
you must not see this man any more."

"But he will call."

"I will see him for you."

"What will you tell him, my heart?--tell him that I am ill, perhaps?"

"No; I will tell him the truth,--that you do not wish to see him."

"That is hard;--he will wonder."