o since I left your care and entered the
world. I have preserved my faith, but, alas, not my purity. But it is
unnecessary to remind you of my life; you know it, you my spiritual
guide, the only keeper of my conscience. Moreover, I am in haste to
arrive at the event which has convulsed my being. Last year my family
had decided that I must marry, and I myself had willingly consented. The
young girl destined for me united all the advantages of which parents
are usually in search. More than that, she was pretty; she pleased me to
such a degree that instead of a marriage of convenience I was about
to make a marriage of affection. My offer was accepted, and we were
betrothed. The happiness and peace of my life seemed assured when I
received a letter from Paul d'Ervy who had returned from Constantinople
and announced his arrival in Paris. He expressed a great desire to see
me. I hurried to him and announced my marriage. He congratulated me
heartily.

"'My dear old boy,' he said, 'I rejoice in your happiness.'

"I told him that I counted on him to be my witness and he willingly
consented. The date of my wedding was fixed for May 15, and he was not
obliged to return to his post until the beginning of June.

"'How lucky that is,' I said to him. 'And you?'

"'Oh, I,' he replied, with a smile which expressed in turn joy and
sorrow, 'I--what a change! I am mad--a woman--Ary. I am either very
fortunate or very unfortunate! What name can one give to a happiness
gained by an evil action? I have betrayed, I have broken the heart of a
good friend... I carried off--yonder--in Constantinople----"

M. Safrac interrupted me:

"My son, leave out of your narrative the faults of others and name no
one."

I promised to obey, and continued as follows:

"Paul had hardly ceased speaking when a woman entered the room.
Evidently it was she; dressed in a long blue _peignoir_, she seemed to
be at home. I will describe to you in one word the terrible impression
she produced on me: she did not seem _natural_. I realise how vague is
this expression and how inadequately it explains my meaning. But perhaps
it will become more intelligible in the course of my story. But, indeed,
in the expression of her golden eyes, that seemed at times to throw out
sparks of light, in the curve of her enigmatical mouth, in the substance
of her skin, at once brown and yet luminous, in the play of the angular
and yet harmonious lines of her body, in the ethereal lig