the wretches! They set
spies upon me; they discovered that an officer came frequently to see
me. But that officer was my brother, my dear Louis! When he was eighteen
years old, and being unable to obtain work, he enlisted, saying to my
mother, that there would then be one mouth the less in the family. He
was a good soldier, and his officers always liked him. He worked whilst
with his regiment; he taught himself, and he quickly rose in rank. He
was promoted a lieutenant, then captain, and finally became major. Louis
always loved me; had he remained in Paris I should not have fallen. But
our mother died, and I was left all alone in this great city. He was a
non-commissioned officer when he first knew that I had a lover; and
he was so enraged that I feared he would never forgive me. But he did
forgive me, saying that my constancy in my error was its only excuse.
Ah, my friend, he was more jealous of your honour than you yourself! He
came to see me in secret, because I placed him in the unhappy position
of blushing for his sister. I had condemned myself never to speak of
him, never to mention his name. Could a brave soldier confess that his
sister was the mistress of a count? That it might not be known, I took
the utmost precautions, but alas! only to make you doubt me. When Louis
knew what was said, he wished in his blind rage to challenge you; and
then I was obliged to make him think that he had no right to defend me.
What misery! Ah, I have paid dearly for my years of stolen happiness!
But you are here, and all is forgotten. For you do believe me, do you
not, Guy? I will write to Louis; he will come, he will tell you that I
do not lie, and you cannot doubt his, a soldier's word."

"Yes, on my honour," said the old soldier, "what my sister says is the
truth."

The dying woman did not hear him; she continued in a voice panting
from weariness: "How your presence revives me. I feel that I am growing
stronger. I have nearly been very ill. I am afraid I am not very pretty
today; but never mind, kiss me!"

She opened her arms, and thrust out her lips as if to kiss him.

"But it is on one condition, Guy, that you will leave me my child? Oh! I
beg of you, I entreat you not to take him from me; leave him to me.
What is a mother without her child? You are anxious to give him
an illustrious name, an immense fortune. No! You tell me that this
sacrifice will be for his good. No! My child is mine; I will keep him.
The world has no