nerves," she said.

"Indeed!" said Camors. "You, who always reproach me with hiding my
merits, why do you hide yours? If you are still capable of weeping, so
much the better."

"No! I claim no merit for that. Oh, heavens! If you only knew! It is
quite the contrary."

"What a mystery you are!"

"Are you very curious to fathom this mystery? Only that? Very well--be
happy! It is time to put an end to this."

She drew her chair from the front of the box out of public view, and,
turning toward Camors, continued: "You wish to know what I am, what I
feel, and what I think; or rather, you wish to know simply whether I
dream of love? Very well, I dream only of that! Have I lovers, or have I
not? I have none, and never shall have, but that will not be because of
my virtue. I believe in nothing, except my own self-esteem and my
contempt of others. The little intrigues, the petty passions, which I see
in the world, make me indignant to the bottom of my soul. It seems to me
that women who give themselves for so little must be base creatures. As
for myself, I remember having said to you one day--it is a million years
since then!--that my person is sacred to me; and to commit a sacrilege I
should wish, like the vestals of Rome, a love as great as my crime, and
as terrible as death. I wept just now during that magnificent fourth act.
It was not because I listened to the most marvellous music ever heard on
this earth; it was because I admire and envy passionately the superb and
profound love of that time. And it is ever thus--when I read the history
of the glorious sixteenth century, I am in ecstacies. How well those
people knew how to love and how to die! One night of love--then death.
That is delightful. Now, cousin, you must leave me. We are observed. They
will believe we love each other, and as we have not that pleasure, it is
useless to incur the penalties. Since I am still in the midst of the
court of Charles Tenth, I pity you, with your black coat and round hat.
Good-night."

"I thank you very much," replied Camors, taking the hand she extended to
him coldly, and left the box. He met M. de Campvallon in the passage.

"Parbleu! my dear friend," said the General, seizing him by the arm. "I
must communicate to you an idea which has been in my brain all the
evening."

"What idea, General?"

"Well, there are here this evening a number of charming young girls. This
set me to thinking of you, and I even said to my wife that