enly. Do not let me think that you have not forgiven me.
You see how quiet I am."

She answered: "But you cannot abandon your guests like that."

He smiled. "But I shall only be away twenty minutes. They will not even
notice it. If you refuse you will cut me to the heart."

She murmured: "Well, then I agree."

But as soon as they were in the carriage he seized her hand, and,
kissing it passionately, exclaimed: "I love you, I love you. Let me tell
you that much. I will not touch you. I only want to repeat to you that I
love you."

She stammered: "Oh! after what you promised me! This is wrong, very
wrong."

He appeared to make a great effort, and then resumed in a restrained
tone: "There, you see how I master myself. And yet--But let me only tell
you that I love you, and repeat it to you every day; yes, let me come to
your house and kneel down for five minutes at your feet to utter those
three words while gazing on your beloved face."

She had yielded her hand to him, and replied pantingly: "No, I cannot, I
will not. Think of what would be said, of the servants, of my daughters.
No, no, it is impossible."

He went on: "I can no longer live without seeing you. Whether at your
house or elsewhere, I must see you, if only for a moment, every day, to
touch your hand, to breathe the air stirred by your dress, to gaze on
the outline of your form, and on your great calm eyes that madden me."

She listened, quivering, to this commonplace love-song, and stammered:
"No, it is out of the question."

He whispered in her ear, understanding that he must capture her by
degrees, this simple woman, that he must get her to make appointments
with him, where she would at first, where he wished afterwards. "Listen,
I must see you; I shall wait for you at your door like a beggar; but I
will see you, I will see you to-morrow."

She repeated: "No, do not come. I shall not receive you. Think of my
daughters."

"Then tell me where I shall meet you--in the street, no matter where, at
whatever hour you like, provided I see you. I will bow to you; I will
say 'I love you,' and I will go away."

She hesitated, bewildered. And as the brougham entered the gateway of
her residence she murmured hurriedly: "Well, then, I shall be at the
Church of the Trinity to-morrow at half-past three." Then, having
alighted, she said to her coachman: "Drive Monsieur Du Roy back to his
house."

As he re-entered his home, his wife said: "Where did you get