first time our liaison had been threatened by her relatives; but up to
this time whatever letters Brigitte had received she had never taken them
so much to heart. How could I bring myself to believe that Brigitte had
been so affected by protests which in less happy moments had had no
effect on her? Could it be merely the weakness of a woman who recoils
from an act of final significance? "I will do as you please," she had
said. No, it does not please me to demand patience, and rather than look
at that sorrowful face even a week longer, unless she speaks I will set
out alone.

Fool that I was! Had I the strength to do it? I did not close my eyes
that night, and the next morning I resolved to call on that young man I
had seen at the opera. I do not know whether it was wrath or curiosity
that impelled me to this course, nor did I know just what I desired to
learn of him; but I reflected that he could not avoid me this time, and
that was all I desired.

As I did not know his address, I asked Brigitte for it, pretending that I
felt under an obligation to call on him after all the visits he had made
us; I had not said a word about my experience at the opera. Brigitte's
eyes betrayed signs of tears. When I entered her room she held out her
hand and said:

"What do you wish?"

Her voice was sad but tender. We exchanged a few kind words, and I set
out less unhappy.

The name of the young man I was going to see was Smith; he was living
near us. When I knocked at his door, I experienced a strange sensation of
uneasiness; I was dazed as though by a sudden flash of light. His first
gesture froze my blood. He was in bed, and with the same accent Brigitte
had employed, with a face as pale and haggard as hers, he held out his
hand and said:

"What do you wish?"

Say what you please, there are things in a man's life which reason can
not explain. I sat as still as if awakened from a dream, and began to
repeat his questions. Why, in fact, had I come to see him? How could I
tell him what had brought me there? Even if he had anything to tell me,
how did I know he would speak? He had brought letters from N------, and
knew those who had written them. But it cost me an effort to question
him, and I feared he would suspect what was in my mind. Our first words
were polite and insignificant. I thanked him for his kindness in bringing
letters to Madame Pierson; I told him that upon leaving France we would
ask him to do the same favor for