her advancing, light, radiant, and
triumphant, one might have fancied her a goddess walking upon clouds.

"When shall I see him?" was her first word to M. de Montbron.

"Well--say to-morrow; he must be prepared for so much happiness; in so
ardent a nature, such sudden, unexpected joy might be terrible."

Adrienne remained pensive for a moment, and then said rapidly: "To
morrow--yes--not before to-morrow. I have a superstition of the heart."

"What is it?"

"You shall know. HE LOVES ME--that word says all, contains all,
comprehends all, is all--and yet I have a thousand questions to ask with
regard to him--but I will ask none before to-morrow, because, by a
mysterious fatality, to-morrow is with me a sacred anniversary. It will
be an age till then; but happily, I can wait. Look here!"

Beckoning M. de Montbron, she led him to the Indian Bacchus. "How much it
is like him!" said she to the count.

"Indeed," exclaimed the latter, "it is strange!"

"Strange?" returned Adrienne, with a smile of gentle pride; "strange,
that a hero, a demi-god, an ideal of beauty, should resemble Djalma?"

"How you love him!" said M. de Montbron, deeply touched, and almost
dazzled by the felicity which beamed from the countenance of Adrienne.

"I must have suffered a good deal, do you not think so?" said she, after
a moment's silence.

"If I had not made up my mind to come here to-day, almost in despair,
what would have happened?"

"I cannot tell; I should perhaps have died, for I am wounded mortally
here"--she pressed her hand to her heart. "But what might have been death
to me, will now be life."

"It was horrible," said the count, shuddering. "Such a passion, buried in
your own breast, proud as you are--"

"Yes, proud--but not self-conceited. When I learned his love for another,
and that the impression which I fancied I had made on him at our first
interview had been immediately effaced, I renounced all hope, without
being able to renounce my love. Instead of shunning his image, I
surrounded myself with all that could remind me of him. In default of
happiness, there is a bitter pleasure in suffering through what we love."

"I can now understand your Indian library."

Instead of answering the count, Adrienne took from the stand one of the
freshly-cut volumes, and, bringing it to M. de Montbron, said to him,
with a smile and a celestial expression of joy and happiness: "I was
wrong--I am vain. Just read this--aloud, if you p