h
that dainty foot, that snowy hand, I will bear it resignedly, asking, in
return for such obedience one only favor,--that of kissing the foot that
spurns me, of bathing with tears the hand that threatens me."

During this long cry of the excited heart, which the joy of triumph
wrung from a nature so nervous and impressionable as that of the
Provencal, he had slidden from his chair, and now knelt with one knee
on the ground beside the countess, in the conventional attitude of the
stage, which is, however, much more common in real life than people
suppose.

"Rise, monsieur," said the countess, "and be so good as to answer me."
Then, giving him a questioning look from beneath her beautiful frowning
brows, she continued: "Have you well-weighed the outcome of the words
you have just uttered? Have you measured the full extent of your pledge,
and its depth? With your hand on your heart and on your conscience, are
you a man to fulfil those words? Or are you one of the falsely humble
and perfidious men who throw themselves at our feet only to make us lose
the balance of our will and our reason?"

"I!" exclaimed la Peyrade; "never can I react against the fascination
you have wielded over me from the moment of our first interview! Ah!
madame, the more I have resisted, the more I have struggled, the more
you ought to trust in my sincerity and its tardy expression. What I have
said, I think; that which I think aloud to-day I have thought in my soul
since the hour when I first had the honor of admittance to you; and the
many days I have passed in struggling against this allurement have ended
in giving me a firm and deliberate will, which understands itself, and
is not cast down by your severity."

"Severity?" said the countess; "possibly. But you ought to think of
the kindness too. Question yourself carefully. We foreign women do not
understand the careless ease with which a Frenchwoman enters upon a
solemn engagement. To us, our _yes_ is sacred; our word is a bond. We do
and we will nothing by halves. The arms of my family bear a motto which
seems significant under the present circumstances,--'All or Nothing';
that is saying much, and yet, perhaps, not enough."

"That is how I understand my pledge," replied la Peyrade; "and on
leaving this room my first step will be to break with that ignoble
past which for an instant I seemed to hold in the balance against the
intoxicating future you do not forbid me to expect."

"No," said