y passion, or that you do not
know it to be the greatest and most sincere that ever was; what trials
has it suffered in things you are a stranger to? What trials have you
put it to by your rigour?"

"Since you are desirous I should open myself to you," answered Madam de
Cleves, "I'll comply with your desire, and I'll do it with a sincerity
that is rarely to be met with in persons of my sex: I shall not tell
you that I have not observed your passion for me; perhaps you would not
believe me if I should tell you so; I confess therefore to you, not
only that I have observed it, but that I have observed it in such
lights as you yourself could wish it might appear to me in." "And if
you have seen my passion, Madam," said he, "is it possible for you not
to have been moved by it? And may I venture to ask, if it has made no
impression on your heart?" "You should have judged of that from my
conduct," replied she; "but I should be glad to know what you thought
of it." "I ought to be in a happier condition," replied he, "to
venture to inform you; my fortune would contradict what I should say;
all I can tell you, Madam, is that I heartily wished you had not
acknowledged to Monsieur de Cleves what you concealed from me, and that
you had concealed from him what you made appear to me." "How came you
to discover," replied she blushing, "that I acknowledged anything to
Monsieur de Cleves?" "I learned it from yourself, Madam," replied he;
"but that you may the better pardon the boldness I showed in listening
to what you said, remember if I have made an ill use of what I heard,
if my hopes rose upon it, or if I was the more encouraged to speak to
you."

Here he began to relate how he had overheard her conversation with
Monsieur de Cleves; but she interrupted him before he had finished;
"Say no more of it," said she, "I see how you came to be so well
informed; I suspected you knew the business but too well at the
Queen-Dauphin's, who learned this adventure from those you had
entrusted with it."

Upon this Monsieur de Nemours informed her in what manner the thing
came to pass; "No excuses," says she; "I have long forgiven you,
without being informed how it was brought about; but since you have
learned from my ownself what I designed to conceal from you all my
life, I will acknowledge to you that you have inspired me with
sentiments I was unacquainted with before I saw you, and of which I had
so slender an idea, that they gave me