heart! And how truly the Commedia, which is justly called
Divine, unlocks the secret chambers of the human soul.

"Read no more, Pierre," said she, "that book is too terrible in its
beauty and in its sadness! I think it was written by a disembodied
spirit who had seen all worlds, knew all hearts, and shared in all
sufferings. It sounds to me like the sad voice of a prophet of woe."

"Amelie," replied he, "believe you there are women faithful and true
as Francesca da Rimini? She would not forsake Paolo even in the gloomy
regions of despair. Believe you that there are such women?"

Amelie looked at him with a quick, confident glance. A deep flush
covered her cheek, and her breath went and came rapidly; she knew what
to answer, but she thought it might seem overbold to answer such a
question. A second thought decided her, however. Pierre Philibert would
ask her no question to which she might not answer, she said to herself.

Amelie replied to him slowly, but undoubtingly: "I think there are such
women, Pierre," replied she, "women who would never, even in the regions
of despair, forsake the man whom they truly love, no, not for all the
terrors recorded in that awful book of Dante!"

"It is a blessed truth, Amelie," replied he, eagerly; and he thought,
but did not say it, "Such a woman you are; the man who gets your love
gets that which neither earth nor heaven nor hell can take away."

He continued aloud, "The love of such a woman is truly given away,
Amelie; no one can merit it! It is a woman's grace, not man's
deserving."

"I know not," said she; "it is not hard to give away God's gifts: love
should be given freely as God gives it to us. It has no value except
as the bounty of the heart, and looks for no reward but in its own
acceptance."

"Amelie!" exclaimed he, passionately, turning full towards her; but her
eyes remained fixed upon the ground. "The gift of such a woman's love
has been the dream, the ambition of my life! I may never find it, or
having found it may never be worthy of it; and yet I must find it or
die! I must find it where alone I seek it--there or nowhere! Can you
help me for friendship's sake--for love's sake, Amelie de Repentigny, to
find that one treasure that is precious as life, which is life itself to
the heart of Pierre Philibert?"

He took hold of her passive hands. They trembled in his, but she offered
not to withdraw them. Indeed, she hardly noticed the act in the tide
of emotion whi