tion of his love, her heart was torn with sorrow
and she regretted that she had not at first told him the secret of his
birth, but her solemn promise to de Gersay had stood in her way. She
determined now to remedy the evil and she therefore applied to de
Gersay to relieve her from her promise. De Gersay advised her to
communicate the truth to her son as soon as possible to prevent a
catastrophe which he prophesied was liable to happen when least
expected. She accordingly wrote the Chevalier that at a certain time
she would be at her house in the Saint Antoine suburb and prayed him
to meet her there. The impassioned Chevalier, expecting nothing less
than the gratification of his desires, prepared himself with extreme
care and flew to the assignation. He was disconcerted, however, by
finding Ninon despondent and sad, instead of smiling and joyful with
anticipation. However, he cast himself at her feet, seized her hand
and covered it with tears and kisses.

"Unfortunate," cried Ninon submitting to his embraces, "there are
destinies beyond human prudence to direct. What have I not attempted
to do to calm your agitated spirit? What mystery do you force me to
unfold?"

"Ah, you are about to deceive me again," interrupted the Chevalier, "I
do not perceive in your eyes the love I had the right to expect. I
recognize in your obscure language an injustice you are about to
commit; you hope to cure me of my love, but disabuse yourself of that
fancy; the cruel triumph you seek to win is beyond the united strength
of both of us, above any imaginable skill, beyond the power of reason
itself. It seems to listen to nothing but its own intoxication, and at
the same time rush to the last extremity."

"Stop," exclaimed Ninon, indignant at this unreasoning folly, "this
horrible love shall not reach beyond the most sacred duties. Stop, I
tell you, monster that you are, and shudder with dismay. Can love
flourish where horror fills the soul? Do you know who you are and who
I am? The lover you are pursuing--"

"Well! That lover?" demanded the Chevalier.

"Is your mother," replied Ninon; "you owe me your birth. It is my son
who sighs at my feet, who talks to me of love. What sentiments do you
think you have inspired me with? Monsieur de Gersay, your father,
through an excess of affection for you, wished you to remain ignorant
of your birth. Ah, my son, by what fatality have you compelled me to
reveal this secret? You know to what degree of