t Heaven has graciously granted to women, on account of their very
weakness, more than it has accorded to other creatures. They can conceal
their own feelings from a man, but from them no man can conceal his. The
marquise divined in a single glance the whole weight of the unhappiness
of the superintendent. She divined a night passed without sleep, a day
passed in deceptions. From that moment she was firm in her own strength,
and she felt that she loved Fouquet beyond everything else. She arose
and approached him, saying, "You wrote to me this morning to say you
were beginning to forget me, and that I, whom you had not seen lately,
had no doubt ceased to think of you. I have come to undeceive you,
monsieur, and the more completely so, because there is one thing I can
read in your eyes."

"What is that, madame?" said Fouquet, astonished.

"That you have never loved me so much as at this moment; in the same
manner you can read, in my present step towards you, that I have not
forgotten you."

"Oh! madame," said Fouquet, whose face was for a moment lighted up by
a sudden gleam of joy, "you are indeed an angel, and no man can
suspect you. All he can do is to humble himself before you and entreat
forgiveness."

"Your forgiveness is granted, then," said the marquise. Fouquet was
about to throw himself upon his knees. "No, no," she said, "sit here by
my side. Ah! that is an evil thought which has just crossed your mind."

"How do you detect it, madame?"

"By the smile that has just marred the expression of your countenance,
Be candid, and tell me what your thought was--no secrets between
friends."

"Tell me, then, madame, why have you been so harsh these three or four
months past?"

"Harsh?"

"Yes; did you not forbid me to visit you?"

"Alas!" said Madame de Belliere, sighing, "because your visit to me
was the cause of your being visited with a great misfortune; because my
house is watched; because the same eyes that have seen you already might
see you again; because I think it less dangerous for you that I should
come here than that you should come to my house; and, lastly, because
I know you to be already unhappy enough not to wish to increase your
unhappiness further."

Fouquet started, for these words recalled all the anxieties connected
with his office of superintendent--he who, for the last few minutes, had
indulged in all the wild aspirations of the lover. "I unhappy?" he said,
endeavoring to smile: "indeed