uld
happen to meet me, to crown his great kindness to me by not appearing to
have ever known me."

As she uttered the last words of this short speech, which she had
delivered very seriously and with a mixture of modesty and resolution,
she kissed her elderly friend in a manner which indicated esteem and
gratitude rather than love. The captain, who did not know why she was
kissing him, was deeply grieved when I translated what Henriette had
said. He begged me to tell her that, if he was to obey her with an easy
conscience, he must know whether she would have everything she required
in Parma.

"You can assure him," she answered, "that he need not entertain any
anxiety about me."

This conversation had made us all very sad; we remained for a long time
thoughtful and silent, until, feeling the situation to be painful, I
rose, wishing them good night, and I saw that Henriette's face wore a
look of great excitement.

As soon as I found myself alone in my room, deeply moved by conflicting
feelings of love, surprise, and uncertainty, I began to give vent to my
feelings in a kind of soliloquy, as I always do when I am strongly
excited by anything; thinking is not, in those cases, enough for me; I
must speak aloud, and I throw so much action, so much animation into
these monologues that I forget I am alone. What I knew now of Henriette
had upset me altogether.

"Who can she be," I said, speaking to the walls; "this girl who seems to
have the most elevated feelings under the veil of the most cynical
libertinism? She says that in Parma she wishes to remain perfectly
unknown, her own mistress, and I cannot, of course, flatter myself that
she will not place me under the same restrictions as the captain to whom
she has already abandoned herself. Goodbye to my expectations, to my
money, and my illusions! But who is she--what is she? She must have
either a lover or a husband in Parma, or she must belong to a respectable
family; or, perhaps, thanks to a boundless love for debauchery and to her
confidence in her own charms, she intends to set fortune, misery, and
degradation at defiance, and to try to enslave some wealthy nobleman! But
that would be the plan of a mad woman or of a person reduced to utter
despair, and it does not seem to be the case with Henriette. Yet she
possesses nothing. True, but she refused, as if she had been provided
with all she needed, the kind assistance of a man who has the right to
offer it, and from wh