possible?"

"Did you tell him, mother, who I am, what I am? Did you confess----"

"Your past fully? No, thank God, I am not fool enough for that, and I
hope you will have the sense to imitate my example, and keep silent on
the subject."

Although Valentine's spirit was completely crushed by her mother's
tyranny, her sense of honor made her revolt against this demand.

"You certainly would not wish me to marry an honest man, mother, without
confessing to him everything connected with the past? I could never
practise a deception so base."

The countess felt very much like flying into a passion; but she knew
that threats would be of no avail in this instance, where resistance
would be a duty of conscience with her daughter. Instead of commanding,
she entreated.

"Poor child," she said, "my poor, dear Valentine. If you only knew the
dreadful state of our affairs, you would not talk in this heartless way.
Your folly commenced our ruin; now it is at its last stage. Do you know
that our creditors threaten to drive us away from La Verberie? Then what
will become of us, my poor child? Must I in my old age go begging from
door to door? We are on the verge of ruin, and this marriage is our only
hope of salvation."

These tearful entreaties were followed by plausible arguments.

The fair-spoken countess made use of strange and subtle theories.
What she formerly regarded as a monstrous crime, she now spoke of as a
peccadillo.

She could understand, she said, her daughter's scruples if there were
any danger of the past being brought to light; but she had taken such
precautions that there was no fear of that.

Would it make her love her husband any the less? No. Would he be made
any happier for hearing that she had loved before? No. Then why say
anything about the past?

Shocked, bewildered, Valentine asked herself if this was really her
mother? The haughty woman, who had always been such a worshipper of
honor and duty, to contradict every word she had uttered during her
life! Valentine could not understand the sudden change.

But she would have understood it, had she known to what base deeds a
mind blunted by selfishness and vanity can lend itself.

The countess's subtle arguments and shameful sophistry neither moved
nor convinced her; but she had not the courage to resist the tearful
entreaties of her mother, who ended by falling on her knees, and with
clasped hands imploring her child to save her from worse than dea