I noticed his base schemes--as I could not fail to do--that put the
finishing touches. I gave him the choice between a scandalous lawsuit,
which would have deprived him of my fortune, and voluntary banishment
by accepting some government post across the sea with half my income.
He finally chose exile and the money, and I was free. I left Madrid and
settled in Paris. You can imagine the circumstances--a young woman of
twenty-three--alone, whose life could not possibly be filled by the
care of two little children."

"Two children?" asked Wilhelm.

"Yes," she answered, and hung her head.

"There is cowardice of which even a courageous woman will be guilty
when, out of consideration for public opinion, she continues to live
under one roof with the father of her first child. And then--you must
take me as I am, with all my imperfections, for which some good
qualities may perhaps make up."

She looked at him humbly, with the eyes of an imploring child, and
continued in a low voice:

"The Spanish colony in Paris received me with open arms. There was no
end to the entertainments, soirees and theaters. But can that satisfy a
young and embittered woman thirsting for happiness? Of course I
received a great deal of attention. An attache of our embassy succeeded
in attracting me. I swear to you that I struggled long with him and
myself, but his passion was stronger than my powers of resistance."

Wilhelm would have drawn away his hand, but she held it fast, and went
on hurriedly.

"I have finished. For four years I shared his life, and then discovered
that I had deceived myself a second time, and put an end to a
connection which had lost the excuse of sincerity For two years now I
have been free--for two years my heart has been at rest. Tell me, can
you condemn me now that you know all?"

"It is not for me to judge you," said Wilhelm sadly. "All I think is
that you have had a great deal of misfortune in your life."

"Yes, have I not?" cried the countess eagerly.

"Do not misunderstand me. You had the misfortune to make a mistake in
thinking you loved Count Pozaldez."

"How should a sixteen-year-old child know? The first passably
good-looking, well-bred man who flatters her wins her heart."

"That is only too true. But if a young girl throws away her heart so
lightly, she has no right to complain if she has to repent of it for
the rest of her life."

"But that is a terrible theory!" exclaimed the countess, and dropped