time；　in　her　own　blue…and…white　room。　It　was　bright　with　flowers；
  dressed；　and　lighted　up。　Honorine　was　in　a　dress　that　made　her
  bewitching。　Her　hair　framed　that　face　that　you　know　in　its　light
  curls；　and　in　it　were　some　sprays　of　Cape　heath；　she　wore　a　white
  muslin　gown；　a　white　sash　with　long　floating　ends。　You　know　what　she
  is　in　such　simplicity；　but　that　day　she　was　a　bride；　the　Honorine　of
  long　past　days。　My　joy　was　chilled　at　once；　for　her　face　was　terribly
  grave；　there　were　fires　beneath　the　ice。
  〃　'　〃Octave；〃　she　said；　〃I　will　return　as　your　wife　when　you　will。　But
  understand　clearly　that　this　submission　has　its　dangers。　I　can　be
  resigned〃
  〃　'I　made　a　movement。
  〃　'　〃Yes；〃　she　went　on；　〃I　understand：　resignation　offends　you；　and
  you　want　what　I　cannot　giveLove。　Religion　and　pity　led　me　to
  renounce　my　vow　of　solitude；　you　are　here！〃　She　paused。
  〃　'　〃At　first；〃　she　went　on；　〃you　asked　no　more。　Now　you　demand　your
  wife。　Well；　here　I　give　you　Honorine；　such　as　she　is；　without
  deceiving　you　as　to　what　she　will　be。What　shall　I　be？　A　mother？　I
  hope　it。　Believe　me；　I　hope　it　eagerly。　Try　to　change　me；　you　have　my
  consent；　but　if　I　should　die；　my　dear；　do　not　curse　my　memory；　and　do
  not　set　down　to　obstinacy　what　I　should　call　the　worship　of　the　Ideal；
  if　it　were　not　more　natural　to　call　the　indefinable　feeling　which　must
  kill　me　the　worship　of　the　Divine！　The　future　will　be　nothing　to　me；
  it　will　be　your　concern；　consult　your　own　mind。〃
  〃　'And　she　sat　down　in　the　calm　attitude　you　used　to　admire；　and
  watched　me　turning　pale　with　the　pain　she　had　inflicted。　My　blood　ran
  cold。　On　seeing　the　effect　of　her　words　she　took　both　my　hands；　and；
  holding　them　in　her　own；　she　said：
  〃　'　〃Octave；　I　do　love　you；　but　not　in　the　way　you　wish　to　be　loved。　I
  love　your　soul。　。　。　。　Still；　understand　that　I　love　you　enough　to　die
  in　your　service　like　an　Eastern　slave；　and　without　a　regret。　It　will
  be　my　expiation。〃
  〃　'She　did　more；　she　knelt　before　me　on　a　cushion；　and　in　a　spirit　of
  sublime　charity　she　said：
  〃　'　〃And　perhaps　I　shall　not　die！〃
  〃　'For　two　months　now　I　have　been　struggling　with　myself。　What　shall　I
  do？　My　heart　is　too　full；　I　therefore　seek　a　friend；　and　send　out　this
  cry；　〃What　shall　I　do？〃　'
  〃I　did　not　answer　this　letter。　Two　months　later　the　newspapers
  announced　the　return　on　board　an　English　vessel　of　the　Comtesse
  Octave；　restored　to　her　family　after　adventures　by　land　and　sea；
  invented　with　sufficient　probability　to　arouse　no　contradiction。
  〃When　I　moved　to　Genoa　I　received　a　formal　announcement　of　the　happy
  event　of　the　birth　of　a　son　to　the　Count　and　Countess。　I　held　that
  letter　in　my　hand　for　two　hours；　sitting　on　this　terraceon　this
  bench。　Two　months　after；　urged　by　Octave；　by　M。　de　Grandville；　and
  Monsieur　de　Serizy；　my　kind　friends；　and　broken　by　the　death　of　my
  uncle；　I　agreed　to　take　a　wife。
  〃Six　months　after　the　revolution　of　July　I　received　this　letter；　which
  concludes　the　story　of　this　couple：
  〃　'MONSIEUR　MAURICE；I　am　dying　though　I　am　a　motherperhaps　because
  I　am　a　mother。　I　have　played　my　part　as　a　wife　well；　I　have　deceived
  my　husband。　I　have　had　happiness　not　less　genuine　than　the　tears　shed
  by　actresses　on　the　stage。　I　am　dying　for　society；　for　the　family；　for
  marriage；　as　the　early　Christians　died　for　God！　I　know　not　of　what　I
  am　dying；　and　I　am　honestly　trying　to　find　out；　for　I　am　not　perverse；
  but　I　am　bent　on　explaining　my　malady　to　youyou　who　brought　that
  heavenly　physician　your　uncle；　at　whose　word　I　surrendered。　He　was　my
  director；　I　nursed　him　in　his　last　illness；　and　he　showed　me　the　way
  to　heaven；　bidding　me　persevere　in　my　duty。
  〃　'And　I　have　done　my　duty。
  〃　'I　do　not　blame　those　who　forget。　I　admire　them　as　strong　and
  necessary　natures；　but　I　have　the　malady　of　memory！　I　have　not　been
  able　twice　to　feel　that　love　of　the　heart　which　identifies　a　woman
  with　the　man　she　loves。　To　the　last　moment；　as　you　know；　I　cried　to
  your　heart；　in　the　confessional；　and　to　my　husband；　〃Have　mercy！〃　But
  there　was　no　mercy。　Well；　and　I　am　dying；　dying　with　stupendous
  courage。　No　courtesan　was　ever　more　gay　than　I。　My　poor　Octave　is
  happy；　I　let　his　love　feed　on　the　illusions　of　my　heart。　I　throw　all
  my　powers　into　this　terrible　masquerade；　the　actress　is　applauded；
  feasted；　smothered　in　flowers；　but　the　invisible　rival　comes　every　day
  to　seek　its　preya　fragment　of　my　life。　I　am　rent　and　I　smile。　I
  smile　on　two　children；　but　it　is　the　elder；　the　dead　one；　that　will
  triumph！　I　told　you　so　before。　The　dead　child　calls　me；　and　I　am　going
  to　him。
  〃　'The　intimacy　of　marriage　without　love　is　a　position　in　which　my
  soul　feels　degraded　every　hour。　I　can　never　weep　or　give　myself　up　to
  dreams　but　when　I　am　alone。　The　exigencies　of　society；　the　care　of　my
  child；　and　that　of　Octave's　happiness　never　leave　me　a　moment　to
  refresh　myself；　to　renew　my　strength；　as　I　could　in　my　solitude。　The
  incessant　need　for　watchfulness　startles　my　heart　with　constant
  alarms。　I　have　not　succeeded　in　implanting　in　my　soul　the　sharp…eared
  vigilance　that　lies　with　facility；　and　has　the　eyes　of　a　lynx。　It　is
  not　the　lip　of　one　I　love　that　drinks　my　tears　and　kisses　them；　my
  burning　eyes　are　cooled　with　water；　and　not　with　tender　lips。　It　is　my
  soul　that　acts　a　part；　and　that　perhaps　is　why　I　am　dying！　I　lock　up
  my　griefs　with　so　much　care　that　nothing　is　to　be　seen　of　it；　it　must
  eat　into　something；　and　it　has　attacked　my　life。
  〃　'I　said　to　the　doctors；　who　discovered　my　secret；　〃Make　me　die　of
  some　plausible　complaint；　or　I　shall　drag　my　husband　with　me。〃
  〃　'So　it　is　quite　understood　by　M。　Desplein；　Bianchon；　and　myself　that
  I　am　dying　of　the　softening　of　some　bone　which　science　has　fully
  described。　Octave　believes　that　I　adore　him；　do　you　understand？　So　I
  am　afraid　lest　he　should　follow　me。　I　now　write　to　beg　you　in　that
  case　to　be　the　little　Count's　guardian。　You　will　find　with　this　a
  codicil　in　which　I　have　expressed　my　wish；　but　do　not　produce　it
  excepting　in　case　of　need；　for　perhaps　I　am　fatuously　vain。　My
  devotion　may　perhaps　leave　Octave　inconsolable　but　willing　to　live。
  Poor　Octave！　I　wish　him　a　better　wife　than　I　am；　for　he　deserves　to　be
  well　loved。
  〃　'Since　my　spiritual　spy　is　married；　I　bid　him　remember　what　the
  florist　of　the　Rue　Saint…Maur　hereby　bequeaths　to　him　as　a　lesson：　May
  your　wife　soon　be　a　mother！　Fling　her　into　the　vulgarest　materialism
  of　household　life；　hinder　her　from　cherishing　in　her　heart　the
  mysterious　flower　of　the　Idealof　that　heavenly　perfection　in　which　I
  believed；　that　enchanted　blossom　with　glorious　colors；　and　whose
  perfume　disgusts　us　with　reality。　I　am　a　Saint…Theresa　who　has　not
  been　suffered　to　live　on　ecstasy　in　the　depths　of　a　convent；　with　the
  Holy　Infant；　and　a　spotless　winged　angel　to　come　and　go　as　she　wished。
  〃　'You　saw　me　happy　among　my　beloved　flowers。　I　did　not　tell　you　all：
  I　saw　love　budding　under　your　affected　madness；　and　I　concealed　from
  you　my　thoughts；　my　poetry；　I　did　not　admit　you　to　my　kingdom　of
  beauty。　Well；　well；　you　will　love　my　child　for　love　of　me　if　he　should
  one　day　lose　his　poor　father。　Keep　my　secrets　as　the　grave　will　keep
  them。　Do　not　mourn　for　me；　I　have　been　dead　this　many　a　day；　if　Saint
  Bernard　was　right　in　saying　that　where　there　is　no　more　love　there　is
  no　more　life。'　〃
  〃And　the　Countess　died；〃　said　the　Consul；　putting　away　the　letters　and
  locking　the　pocket…book。
  〃Is　the　Count　still　living？〃　asked　the　Ambassador；　〃for　since　the
  revolution　of　July　he　has　disappeared　from　the　political　stage。〃
  〃Do　you　remember；　Monsieur　de　Lora；〃　said　the　Consul…General；　〃having
  seen　me　going　to　the　steamboat　with〃
  〃A　white…haired　man！　an　old　man？〃　said　the　painter。
  〃An　old　man　of　forty…five；　going　in　search　of　health　and　amusement　in
  Southern　Italy。　That　old　man　was　my　poor　friend；　my　patron；　passing
  through　Genoa　to　take　leave　of　me　and　place　his　will　in　my　hands。　He
  appoints　me　his　son's　guardian。　I　had　no　occasion　to　tell　him　of
  Honorine's　wishes。〃
  〃Does　he　suspect　himself　of　murder？〃　said　Mademoiselle　des　Touches　to
  the　Baron　de　l'Hostal。
  〃He　suspects　the　truth；〃　replied　the　Consul；　〃and　that　is　what　is
  killing　him。　I　remained　on　board　the　steam　packet　that　was　to　take　him
  to　Naples　till　it　was　out　of　the　roadstead；　a　small　boat　brought　me
  back。　We　sat　for　some　little　time　taking　leave　of　each　otherfor
  ever；　I　fear。　God　only　knows　how　much　we　love　the　confidant　of　our
  love　when　she　who　inspired　it　is　no　more。
  〃　'That　man；'　said　Octave；　'holds　a　charm　and　wears　an　aureole。'　the
  Count　went　to　the　prow　and　looked　down　on　the　Mediterranean。　It
  happened　to　be　fine；　and；　moved　no　doubt　by　the　spectacle；　he　spoke
  these　last　words：　'Ought　we　not；　in　the　interests　of　human　nature；　to
  inquire　what　is　the　irresistible　power　which　leads　us　to　sacrifice　an
  exquisite　creature　to　the　most　fugitive　of　all　pleasures；　and　in　spite
  of　our　reason？　In　my　conscience　I　heard　cries。　Honorine　was　not　alone
  in　her　anguish。　And　yet　I　would　have　it！　。　。　。　I　am　consumed　by
  remorse。　In　the　Rue　Payenne　I　was　dying　of　the　joys　I　had　not；　now　I
  shall　die　in　Italy　of　the　joys　I　have　had。　。　。　。　Wherein　lay　the
  discord　between　two