to cross the lake
alone and at night. Thus he became so near being lost. The Count wished
to leave me that night, for he was aware of the absence of the Duke of
Palma, and was afraid of compromising me. I, however, retained him for
several days in the villa, for the purpose of throwing off the vigilance
of his enemies. Alas! how have I regretted those days, the only happy
ones of my life. How rapidly they passed away! The Count knew the
mystery I wished to hide from him. He read it in my soul, the only
thought of which he long had been. He knew why I had married, what tears
and sorrow I had known, and what anguish it had caused me. Touched by
this vast sacrifice, understanding the extent of my love, I saw the ice
of his heart gradually begin to melt. But as his heart warmed to mine, a
secret terror took possession of me. Tasting all the joy of seeing arise
in the heart of the Count, sentiments which, when I was free I could not
have heard without pride and satisfaction, I trembled at the idea of
being able to listen to them only with crime. Soon it was I who besought
the Count to fly--to leave me--to see me no more. Strange, however, is
the human heart; the passion of Monte-Leone seemed to feed on my
opposition. He forgot the past, he could not realize it to have existed.

"Sitting by my side during the long days, beneath the flowery bowers of
the villa, the Count, as he said, saw through the darkness in which he
had been enveloped--his eyes recovered their vision, and at last I
appeared to him, for the first time, the most charming, the most
adorable of women. Never was there a more eloquent tenderness than
his--and to me who lived for him alone--whose image was ever before me,
who had loved him in spite of his coldness and indifference, almost his
contempt, to me he used this language of entreaty.... Yet he did so to a
woman who loved him. A month passed in this cruel contest of love and
duty. The contest was not equal, and passion triumphed. The Count had
left the villa, but was concealed in the vicinity, and I saw him every
day become more tender and affectionate. One must have suffered as I
have to understand the intoxication of my happiness. To be loved by him
had never seemed possible; and to possess this life-dream, to read in
his looks a passion I alone had experienced hitherto, was a veil, thin
indeed, but this prevented me from discerning how great was my fault. If
it did become known to me, I loved it; for in