so ardent
and sincere a passion."

"Oh! is it really so? Has he never had any other love?"

"Never."

"Yet I was told so."

"By whom?"

"M. Rodin."

"That Djalma--"

"Had fallen violently in love, two days after I saw him."

"M. Rodin told you that!" cried M. de Montbron, as if struck with a
sudden idea. "Why, it is he who told Djalma that you were in love with
some one else."

"I!"

"And this it was which occasioned the poor youth's dreadful despair."

"It was this which occasioned my despair."

"You love him, then, just as he loves you!" exclaimed M. de Montbron,
transported with joy.

"Love him!" said Mdlle. de Cardoville. A discreet knock at the door
interrupted Adrienne.

"One of your servants, no doubt. Be calm," said the count.

"Come in," said Adrienne, in an agitated voice.

"What is it?" said Mdlle. de Cardoville. Florine entered the room.

"M. Rodin has just been here. Fearing to disturb mademoiselle, he would
not come in; but he will return in half an hour. Will mademoiselle
receive him?"

"Yes, yes," said the count to Florine; "even if I am still here, show him
in by all means. Is not that your opinion?" asked M. de Montbron of
Adrienne.

"Quite so," answered the young girl; and a flash of indignation darted
from her eyes, as she thought of Rodin's perfidy.

"Oho! the old knave!" said M. de Montbron, "I always had my doubts of
that crooked neck!" Florine withdrew, leaving the count with her
mistress.

CHAPTER IX.

LOVE.

Mdlle. de Cardoville was transfigured. For the first time her beauty
shone forth in all its lustre. Until now overshadowed by indifference, or
darkened by grief, she appeared suddenly illumined by a brilliant ray of
sunshine. The slight irritation caused by Rodin's perfidy passed like an
imperceptible shade from her brow. What cared she now for falsehood and
perfidy? Had they not failed? And, for the future, what human power could
interpose between her and Djalma, so sure of each other? Who would dare
to cross the path of those two things, resolute and strong with the
irresistible power of youth, love, and liberty? Who would dare to follow
them into that blazing sphere, whither they went, so beautiful and happy,
to blend together in their inextinguishable love, protected by the proof
armor of their own happiness? Hardly had Florine left the room, when
Adrienne approached M. de Montbron with a rapid step. She seemed to have
become taller; and to watch