ide me. Darkness was coming on, and we had more
than six miles to do. Fine rain began to fall when I started, and
continued all the way, so that I got home by eight o'clock wet to the
skin, shivering with cold, dead tired, and in a sore plight from the
rough saddle, against which my satin breeches were no protection. Costa
helped me to change my clothes, and as he went out Annette came in.

"Where is your sister?"

"She is in bed with a bad headache. She gave me a letter for you; here it
is."

"I have been obliged to go to bed on account of a severe headache to
which I am subject. I feel better already, and I shall be able to wait on
you to-morrow. I tell you as much, because I do not wish you to think
that my illness is feigned. I am sure that your repentance for having
humiliated me is sincere, and I hope in your turn that you will forgive
me or pity me, if my way of thinking prevents me from conforming to
yours."

"Annette dear, go and ask your sister if she would like us to sup in her
room."

She soon came back telling me that Veronique was obliged, but begged me
to let her sleep.

I supped with Annette, and was glad to see that, though she only drank
water, her appetite was better than mine. My passion for her sister
prevented me thinking of her, but I felt that Annette would otherwise
have taken my fancy. When we were taking dessert, I conceived the idea of
making her drunk to get her talk of her sister, so I gave her a glass of
Lunel muscat.

"I only drink water, sir."

"Don't you like wine?"

"Yes, but as I am not used to it I am afraid of its getting into my
head."

"Then you can go to bed; you will sleep all the better."

She drank the first glass, which she enjoyed immensely, then a second,
and then a third. Her little brains were in some confusion when she had
finished the third glass. I made her talk about her sister, and in
perfect faith she told me all the good imaginable.

"Then you are very fond of Veronique?" said I.

"Oh, yes! I love her with all my heart, but she will not let me caress
her."

"No doubt she is afraid of your ceasing to love her. But do you think she
ought to make me suffer so?"

"No, but if you love her you ought to forgive her."

Annette was still quite reasonable. I made her drink a fourth glass of
muscat, but an instant after she told me that she could not see anything,
and we rose from the table. Annette began to please me a little too much,
but I determined