ot know what comedy you are playing,
but as for me I am in earnest. I have loved you as only man can love, and
to my sorrow I love you still. You have just told me that you love me,
and I hope it is true; but, by all that is sacred, if I am your lover
to-night, no one shall take my place tomorrow. Before God, before God," I
repeated, "I would not take you back as my mistress, for I hate you as
much as I love you. Before God, if you wish to stay here to-night I will
kill you in the morning."

When I had spoken these words I fell into a delirium. She threw her cloak
over her shoulders and fled from the room.

When I told Desgenais about it he said:

"Why did you do that? You must be very much disgusted, for she is a
beautiful woman."

"Are you joking?" I asked. "Do you think such a woman could be my
mistress? Do you think I would ever consent to share her with another? Do
you know that she confesses that another attracts her, and do you expect
me, loving her as I do, to share my love? If that is the way you love, I
pity you."

Desgenais replied that he was not so particular.

"My dear Octave," he added, "you are very young. You want many things,
beautiful things, which do not exist. You believe in a singular sort of
love; perhaps you are capable of it; I believe you are, but I do not envy
you. You will have other mistresses, my friend, and you will live to
regret what happened last night. If that woman came to you it is certain
that she loved you; perhaps she does not love you at this moment--indeed,
she may be in the arms of another; but she loved you last night in that
room; and what should you care for the rest? You will regret it, believe
me, for she will not come again. A woman pardons everything except such a
slight. Her love for you must have been something terrible when she came
to you knowing and confessing herself guilty, risking rebuff and contempt
at your hands. Believe me, you will regret it, for I am satisfied that
you will soon be cured."

There was such an air of simple conviction about my friend's words, such
a despairing certainty based on experience, that I shuddered as I
listened. While he was speaking I felt a strong desire to go to my
mistress, or to write to her to come to me. I was so weak that I could
not leave my bed, and that saved me from the shame of finding her waiting
for my rival or perhaps in his company. But I could write to her; in
spite of myself I doubted whether she would come