deny what is in my heart; but you do not learn
of that love to-day for the first time, and I ask you what has prevented
me from declaring it up to the present time? The fear of losing you; I
was afraid I would not be permitted to see you, and that is what has
happened. Make a condition that the first word I shall speak, the first
thought or gesture that shall seem to be inconsistent with the most
profound respect, shall be the signal for the closing of your door; as I
have been silent in the past, I will be silent in the future, You think
that I have loved you for a month, when in fact I have loved you from the
first day I met you. When you discovered it, you did not refuse to see me
on that account. If you had at that time enough esteem for me to believe
me incapable of offending you, why have you lost that esteem?

"That is what I have come to ask you. What have I done? I have bent my
knee, but I have not said a word. What have I told you? What you already
knew. I have been weak because I have suffered. It is true, Madame, that
I am twenty years of age and what I have seen of life has only disgusted
me (I could use a stronger word); it is true that there is not at this
hour on earth, either in the society of men or in solitude, a place,
however small and insignificant, that I care to occupy.

"The space enclosed within the four walls of your garden is the only spot
in the world where I live; you are the only human being who has made me
love God. I had renounced everything before I knew you; why deprive me of
the only ray of light that Providence has spared me? If it is on account
of fear, what have I done to inspire it? If it is on account of dislike,
in what respect am I culpable? If it is on account of pity and because I
suffer, you are mistaken in supposing that I can cure myself; it might
have been done, perhaps, two months ago; but I preferred to see you and
to suffer, and I do not repent, whatever may come of it. The only
misfortune that can reach me is to lose you. Put me to the proof. If I
ever feel that there is too much suffering for me in our bargain I will
go away; and you may be sure of it, since you send me away to-day, and I
am ready to go. What risk do you run in giving me a month or two of the
only happiness I shall ever know?"

I waited her reply. She suddenly rose from her seat, and then sat down
again. Then a moment of silence ensued.

"Rest assured," she said, "it is not so."

I thought she w