that Nugent was
her favorite. And more than this, I remembered accusing her myself of
never having done justice to Oscar from the first.

[Note.--See the sixteenth chapter, and Madame Pratolungo's remark,
warning you that you would hear of this circumstance again.--P.]

Oscar went on.

"Bear that in mind," he said. "And now let us get to the time when we
were assembled in your sitting-room, to discuss the subject of the
operation on your eyes. The question before us, as I remember it, was
this. Were you to marry me, before the operation? Or were you to keep me
waiting until the operation had been performed, and the cure was
complete? How did Madame Pratolungo decide on that occasion? She decided
against my interests; she encouraged you to delay our marriage."

I persisted in defending her. "She did that out of sympathy with me," I
said.

He surprised me by again accepting my view of the matter, without
attempting to dispute it.

"We will say she did it out of sympathy with you," he proceeded.
"Whatever her motives might be, the result was the same. My marriage to
you was indefinitely put off; and Madame Pratolungo voted for that
delay."

"And your brother," I added, "took the other side, and tried to persuade
me to marry you first. How can you reconcile that with what you have told
me----"

He interposed before I could say more. "Don't bring my brother into the
inquiry," he said. "My brother, at that time, could still behave like an
honorable man, and sacrifice his own feelings to his duty to me. Let us
strictly confine ourselves, for the present, to what Madame Pratolungo
said and did. And let us advance again to a few minutes later on the same
day, when our little domestic debate had ended. My brother was the first
to go. Then, you retired, and left Madame Pratolungo and me alone in the
room. Do you remember?"

I remembered perfectly.

"You had bitterly disappointed me," I said. "You had shown no sympathy
with my eagerness to be restored to the blessing of sight. You made
objections and started difficulties. I recollect speaking to you with
some of the bitterness that I felt--blaming you for not believing in my
future as I believed in it, and hoping as I hoped--and then leaving you,
and locking myself up in my own room."

In those terms, I satisfied him that my memory of the events of that day
was as clear as his own. He listened without making any remark, and went
on when I had done.

"Madame Pratolu