"What do you mean, monsieur?"

"That there has never been more than one will in the family, and that
will is mine; that the minds of my two brothers turn according to the
fancy of that will like weathercocks before the wind, and that he who has
blown hot can blow cold."

"I am still waiting for you to explain yourself, monsieur."

"Well, then, my dear sister-in-law, since you are pleased not to
understand me, I will explain myself more clearly. My brother turned
from you through jealousy; I wished to give you an idea of my power over
him, and from extreme indifference I have brought him back, by showing
him that he suspected you wrongly, to the ardours of the warmest love.
Well, I need only tell him that I was mistaken, and fix his wandering
suspicions upon any man whatever, and I shall take him away from you,
even as I have brought him back. I need give you no proof of what I say;
you know perfectly well that I am speaking the truth."

"And what object had you, in acting this part?"

"To prove to you, madame, that at my will I can cause you to be sad or
joyful, cherished or neglected, adored or hated. Madame, listen to me: I
love you."

"You insult me, monsieur!" cried the marquise, trying to withdraw the
bridle of her horse from the abbe's hands.

"No fine words, my dear sister-in-law; for, with me, I warn you, they
will be lost. To tell a woman one loves her is never an insult; only
there are a thousand different ways of obliging her to respond to that
love. The error is to make a mistake in the way that one employs--that
is the whole of the matter."

"And may I inquire which you have chosen?" asked the marquise, with a
crushing smile of contempt.

"The only one that could succeed with a calm, cold, strong woman like
you, the conviction that your interest requires you to respond to my
love."

"Since you profess to know me so well," answered the marquise, with
another effort, as unsuccessful as the former, to free the bridle of her
horse, "you should know how a woman like me would receive such an
overture; say to yourself what I might say to you, and above all, what I
might say to my husband."

The abbe smiled.

"Oh, as to that," he returned, "you can do as you please, madame. Tell
your husband whatever you choose; repeat our conversation word for word;
add whatever your memory may furnish, true or false, that may be most
convincing against me; then, when you have thoroughly given him his cue,
wh