request to guess his desire. When was a man's desire a secret? And have
not women an intuitive knowledge of the meaning of certain changes of
countenance?

"What! you wish to be my friend no longer?" she broke in at the first
words, and a divine red surging like new blood under the transparent
skin, lent brightness to her eyes. "As a reward for my generosity, you
would dishonor me? Just reflect a little. I myself have thought much
over this; and I think always for us _both_. There is such a thing as
a woman's loyalty, and we can no more fail in it than you can fail in
honour. _I_ cannot blind myself. If I am yours, how, in any sense, can
I be M. de Langeais' wife? Can you require the sacrifice of my position,
my rank, my whole life in return for a doubtful love that could not wait
patiently for seven months? What! already you would rob me of my right
to dispose of myself? No, no; you must not talk like this again. No, not
another word. I will not, I cannot listen to you."

Mme de Langeais raised both hands to her head to push back the tufted
curls from her hot forehead; she seemed very much excited.

"You come to a weak woman with your purpose definitely planned out. You
say--'For a certain length of time she will talk to me of her husband,
then of God, and then of the inevitable consequences. But I will use
and abuse the ascendancy I shall gain over her; I will make myself
indispensable; all the bonds of habit, all the misconstructions of
outsiders, will make for me; and at length, when our _liaison_ is taken
for granted by all the world, I shall be this woman's master.'--Now, be
frank; these are your thoughts! Oh! you calculate, and you say that you
love. Shame on you! You are enamoured? Ah! that I well believe! You
wish to possess me, to have me for your mistress, that is all! Very well
then, No! The _Duchesse de Langeais_ will not descend so far. Simple
_bourgeoises_ may be the victims of your treachery--I, never! Nothing
gives me assurance of your love. You speak of my beauty; I may lose
every trace of it in six months, like the dear Princess, my neighbour.
You are captivated by my wit, my grace. Great Heavens! you would soon
grow used to them and to the pleasures of possession. Have not the
little concessions that I was weak enough to make come to be a matter of
course in the last few months? Some day, when ruin comes, you will give
me no reason for the change in you beyond a curt, 'I have ceased to
care for yo