sign, departing without venturing to take leave of Madame
Bertollon; and, however much M. Bertollon was against it, he was,
nevertheless, obliged at last to consent.

I soon recovered from my delusion in the tranquillity of rural nature.
I felt that I had never loved Madame Bertollon, and I despised myself
for endeavouring to make her believe that I entertained a sentiment for
her which I did not feel. All with me had been nothing but an
intoxicating delusion, which was first produced by the unhappy passion
that this lovely creature could no longer conceal from me. She alone
was to be pitied, and it was my duty to restore to her the peace she
had lost.

My mind now gradually resuming its wonted serenity and cheerfulness,
rose above the clouds that had darkened it, and Clementine's image
stood before me more resplendent and charming than ever. At my
departure from Montpellier, I had left the wreath and harp behind, not
because I had then quite forgotten Clementine, but because shame and a
sacred awe drove me back when I was on the point of touching the adored
relics. I no longer thought myself worthy of her, and considered the
torments of my longing, and of the separation from her, a mild penance
for my crime.

Several weeks passed, during which Bertollon only called on me, telling
me often that he could not live without me, and yet that he was
fettered by his affairs to the unlucky town.

He made several attempts to induce me to return to Montpellier; but in
vain. I continued in my salutary retreat, and felt myself happier.

One morning early, I was awakened by my servant, who told me that M.
Larette, a friend of Bertollon's, had called, and desired to speak to
me immediately. At the same moment, Larette himself entered, pale and
confused.

"Get up," he cried, "and come directly to Montpellier."

"What is the matter?" I asked, terrified.

"Get up and dress yourself; you must not lose a moment; Bertollon is
poisoned, and is on the point of death."

"Poisoned?" I faltered, and sank back senseless on my bed.

"Only be quick, he wishes to see you once more; I hastened here by his
order."

Trembling, I flung on my clothes, and followed him mechanically to the
door, where a carriage awaited us. We stepped in, and, with the utmost
speed, went to Montpellier.

"Poisoned?" I asked again on the way.

"Certainly," replied M. Larette, "but there is an inconceivable mystery
about the affair. A fellow who bou