proudly shared, above the masses, all the pleasures of earth,
the intoxication of passion, the enjoyment of intellectual strength, the
satisfaction of pride, and the emotions of power. The eclat of such a
life would constitute the vengeance of Camors, and force to repent
bitterly those who had dared to misunderstand him. The recent mourning of
the Marquise commanded them, notwithstanding, to adjourn the realization
of their dream, if they did not wish to wound the conscience of the
public. They felt it, and resolved to travel for a few months before
settling in Paris. The time that passed in their preparations for the
future, and in arrangements for this voyage, was to Madame de Campvallon
the sweetest period of her life. She finally tasted to the full an
intimacy, so long troubled, of which the charm, in truth, was very great;
for her lover, as if to make her forget his momentary desertion, was
prodigal in the effusion of his tenderness. He brought to private
studies, as well as to their common schemes, an ardor, a fire, which
displayed itself in his face, in his eyes, and which seemed yet more to
heighten his manly beauty. It often happened, after quitting the Marquise
in the evening, that he worked very late at home, sometimes until
morning. One night, shortly before the day fixed for their departure, a
private servant of the Count, who slept in the room above his master's,
heard a noise which alarmed him.

He went down in great haste, and found M. de Camors stretched apparently
lifeless on the floor at the foot of his desk. The servant, whose name
was Daniel, had all his master's confidence, and he loved him with that
singular affection which strong natures often inspire in their inferiors.

He sent for Madame de Campvallon, who soon came. M. de Camors, recovering
from his fainting-fit, was very pale, and was walking across the room
when she entered. He seemed irritated at seeing her, and rebuked his
servant sharply for his ill-advised zeal.

He said he had only had a touch of vertigo, to which he was subject.
Madame de Campvallon soon retired, having first supplicated him not to
overwork himself again. When he came to her next day, she could not help
being surprised at the dejection stamped on his face, which she
attributed to the attack he had had the night before. But when she spoke
of their approaching departure, she was astonished, and even alarmed by
his reply:

"Let us defer it a little, I beg of you," he