e--eyes that had a
strange look to me.

"'It is too hot now,' she said; 'let us go and sit on the sofa over
there.'

"So we went and sat on the sofa, and then she said suddenly, looking me
full in the face:

"'What would you do if a woman were to tell you that she was in love with
you?'

"'Upon my word,' I replied, very much at a loss for an answer, 'I cannot
foresee such a case; but it would depend very much upon the woman.'

"She gave a hard, nervous, vibrating laugh; one of those false laughs
which seem as if they must break thin glass, and then she added: 'Men are
never either venturesome or spiteful.' And, after a moment's silence, she
continued: 'Have you ever been in love, Monsieur Paul?' I was obliged to
acknowledge that I certainly had, and she asked me to tell her all about
it. Whereupon I made up some story or other. She listened to me
attentively, with frequent signs of disapproval and contempt, and then
suddenly she said:

"'No, you understand nothing about the subject. It seems to me that real
love must unsettle the mind, upset the nerves and distract the head; that
it must--how shall I express it?--be dangerous, even terrible,
almost criminal and sacrilegious; that it must be a kind of treason; I
mean to say that it is bound to break laws, fraternal bonds, sacred
obligations; when love is tranquil, easy, lawful and without dangers, is
it really love?'

"I did not know what answer to give her, and I made this philosophical
reflection to myself: 'Oh! female brain, here; indeed, you show
yourself!'

"While speaking, she had assumed a demure saintly air; and, resting on
the cushions, she stretched herself out at full length, with her head on
my shoulder, and her dress pulled up a little so as to show her red
stockings, which the firelight made look still brighter. In a minute or
two she continued:

"'I suppose I have frightened you?' I protested against such a notion,
and she leaned against my breast altogether, and without looking at me,
she said: 'If I were to tell you that I love you, what would you do?'

"And before I could think of an answer, she had thrown her arms around my
neck, had quickly drawn my head down, and put her lips to mine.

"Oh! My dear friend, I can tell you that I did not feel at all happy!
What! deceive Julien? become the lover of this little, silly,
wrong-headed, deceitful woman, who was, no doubt, terribly sensual, and
whom her husband no longer satisfied.

"To betra