ontinued the princess, in a tone of voice full
of gentleness; "I prefer a frankness that wounds me, to flattery, which
would deceive me. And so, according to your opinion, M. de Guiche, I am
a coquette, an a worthless creature."

"Worthless," cried the young man; "you worthless! Oh, no; most certainly
I did not say, I could not have said, that that which was the most
precious object in life for me could be worthless. No, no; I did not say
that."

"A woman who sees a man perish, consumed by the fire she has kindled,
and who does not allay that fire, is, in my opinion, a worthless woman."

"What can it matter to you what I said?" returned the comte. "What am
I compared to you, and why should you even trouble yourself to know
whether I exist or not?"

"Monsieur de Guiche, both you and I are human beings, and, knowing you
as I do, I do not wish you to risk your life; with you I will change
my conduct and character. I will be, not frank, for I am always so, but
truthful. I implore you, therefore, to love me no more, and to forget
utterly that I have ever addressed a word or a glance towards you."

De Guiche turned around, bending a look full of passionate devotion upon
her. "You," he said; "_you_ excuse yourself; _you_ implore me?"

"Certainly; since I have done evil, I ought to repair the evil I have
done. And so, comte, this is what we will agree to. You will forgive my
frivolity and my coquetry. Nay, do not interrupt me. I will forgive
you for having said I was frivolous and a coquette, or something worse,
perhaps; and you will renounce your idea of dying, and will preserve for
your family, for the king, and for our sex, a cavalier whom every one
esteems, and whom many hold dear." Madame pronounced this last word
in such an accent of frankness, and even of tenderness, that poor De
Guiche's heart felt almost bursting.

"Oh! Madame, Madame!" he stammered out.

"Nay, listen further," she continued. "When you shall have renounced
all thought of me forever, from necessity in the first place, and,
next, because you will yield to my entreaty, then you will judge me more
favorably, and I am convinced you will replace this love--forgive the
frivolity of the expression--by a sincere friendship, which you will
be ready to offer me, and which, I promise you, shall be cordially
accepted."

De Guiche, his forehead bedewed with perspiration, a feeling of death
in his heart, and a trembling agitation through his whole frame, bi