in a voice again hoarse with emotion.

"What is it?" asked the novelist.

"What is it? You are an honest man, Dorsenne; you are a great artist;
you are my friend, and a friend allied to me by a sacred bond, almost
a brother-in-arms; you, the grandnephew of a hero who shed his blood by
the side of my grandfather at Somo-Sierra. Give me your word of honor
that you are absolutely certain Madame Steno is not Maitland's mistress,
that you never thought it, have never heard it said, and I will believe
you, I will obey you! Come," continued he, pressing the writer's hand
with more fervor, "I see you hesitate!"

"No," said Julien, disengaging himself from the wild grasp, "I do not
hesitate. I am sorry for you. Were I to give you that word, would it
have any weight with you for five minutes? Would you not be persuaded
immediately that I was perjuring myself to avoid a misfortune?"

"You hesitate," interrupted Boleslas. Then, with a burst of wild
laughter, he said, "It is then true! I like that better! It is frightful
to know it, but one suffers less--To know it' As if I did not know she
had lovers before me, as if it were not written on Alba's every feature
that she is Werekiew's child, as if I had not heard it said seventy
times before knowing her that she had loved Branciforte, San Giobbe,
Strabane, ten others. Before, during, or after, what difference does it
make? Ah, I was sure on knocking at your door--at this door of honor--I
should hear the truth, that I would touch it as I touch this object,"
and he laid his hand upon a marble bust on the table.

"You see I hear it like a man. You can speak to me now. Who knows?
Disgust is a great cure for passion. I will listen to you. Do not spare
me!"

"You are mistaken, Gorka," replied Dorsenne. "What I have to say to you,
I can say very simply. I was, and I am, convinced that in a quarter of
an hour, in an hour, tomorrow, the day after, you will consider me a
liar or an imbecile. But, since you misinterpreted my silence, it is my
duty to speak, and I do so. I give you my word of honor I have never had
the least suspicion of a connection between Madame Steno and Maitland,
nor have their relations seemed changed to me for a second since your
absence. I give you my word of honor that no one, do you hear, no
one has spoken of it to me. And, now, act as you please, think as you
please. I have said all I can say."

The novelist uttered those words with a feverish energy which was