s
sighs, glances, sadness when in her presence, were signs to her of a
passion that she would be compelled to subdue with a strong, ruthless
hand.

"Raise your eyes to that clock," she said to him one day, "and mark
the passing of time. Rash boy, it is sixty-five years since I came
into the world. Does it become me to listen to a passion like love?
Is it possible at my age to love or be loved? Enter within yourself,
Chevalier, and see how ridiculous are your desires and those you would
arouse in me."

All Ninon's remonstrances, however, tended only to increase the
desires which burned in the young man's breast. His mother's tears,
which now began to flow, were regarded by the youth as trophies of
success.

"What, tears?" he exclaimed, "you shed tears for me? Are they wrung
from your heart by pity, by tenderness? Ah, am I to be blessed?"

"This is terrible," she replied, "it is insanity. Leave me, and do not
poison the remainder of a life which I detest."

"What language is this?" exclaimed the Chevalier. "What poison can the
sweetness of making still another one happy instill into the loveliest
life? Is this the tender and philosophic Ninon? Has she not raised
between us that shadow of virtue that makes her sex adorable? What
chimeras have changed your heart? Shall I tell you? You carry your
cruelty to the extent of fighting against yourself, resisting your own
desires. I have seen in your eyes a hundred times less resistance than
you now set against me. And these tears which my condition has drawn
from your eyes--tell me, are they shed through indifference or hate?
Are you ashamed to avow a sensibility which honors humanity?"

"Cease, Chevalier," said Ninon, raising her hand in protest, "the
right to claim my liveliest friendship rested with you, I thought you
worthy of it. That is the cause of the friendly looks which you have
mistaken for others of greater meaning, and it is also the cause of
the tears I shed. Do not flatter yourself that you have inspired me
with the passion of love. I can see too plainly that your desires are
the effect of a passing presumption. Come now, you shall know my
heart, and it should destroy all hope for you. It will go so far as to
hate you, if you repeat your protestations of blind tenderness. I do
not care to understand you, leave me, to regret the favors you have so
badly interpreted."

When Ninon learned that her son was plunged into despair and fury on
account of her rejec