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yours. I
felt deeply grieved when I saw you leave me last night, and a little
consideration made me understand all the evil which might accrue to
you in consequence of what I had done. With a nature like yours, such
scenes might cause very dangerous disorders, and I have resolved not
to do again anything by halves. I thought that you went out to breathe
the fresh air, and I hoped it would do you good. I placed myself at my
window, where I remained more than an hour without seeing alight in
your room. Sorry for what I had done, loving you more than ever, I was
compelled, when my husband came to my room, to go to bed with the
sad conviction that you had not come home. This morning, M. F. sent
an officer to tell you that he wanted to see you, and I heard the
messenger inform him that you were not yet up, and that you had come
home very late. I felt my heart swell with sorrow. I am not jealous,
dearest, for I know that you cannot love anyone but me; I only felt
afraid of some misfortune. At last, this morning, when I heard you
coming, I was happy, because I was ready to skew my repentance, but I
looked at you, and you seemed a different man. Now, I am still looking
at you, and, in spite of myself, my soul reads upon your countenance
that you are guilty, that you have outraged my love. Tell me at once,
dearest, if I am mistaken; if you have deceived me, say so openly. Do
not be unfaithful to love and to truth. Knowing that I was the cause of it,
I should never forgive my self, but there is an excuse for you in my
heart, in my whole being."

More than once, in the course of my life, I have found myself under the
painful necessity of telling falsehoods to the woman I loved; but in this
case, after so true, so touching an appeal, how could I be otherwise than
sincere? I felt myself sufficiently debased by my crime, and I could not
degrade myself still more by falsehood. I was so far from being
disposed to such a line of conduct that I could not speak, and I burst out
crying.
"What, my darling! you are weeping! Your tears make me miserable.
You ought not to have shed any with me but tears of happiness and
love. Quick, my beloved, tell me whether you have made me wretched.
Tell me what fearful revenge you have taken on me, who would rather
die than offend you. If I have caused you any sorrow, it has been in the
innocence of a loving and devoted heart."
"My own darling angel, I never thought of revenge, for my heart, which
can never cease to adore you, could never conceive such a dreadful idea.
It is against my own heart that my cowardly weakness has allured me
to the commission of a crime which, for the remainder of my life,
makes me unworthy of you."
"Have you, then, given yourself to some wretched woman?"
"Yes, I have spent two hours in the vilest debauchery, and my soul was
present only to be the witness of my sadness, of my remorse, of my
unworthiness."
"Sadness and remorse! Oh, my poor friend! I believe it. But it is my
fault; I alone ought to suffer; it is I who must beg you to forgive me."
Her tears made mine flow again.
"Divine soul," I said, "the reproaches you are addressing to yourself
increase twofold the gravity of my crime. You would never have been
guilty of any wrong against me if I had been really worthy of your
love."
I felt deeply the truth of my words.

We spent the remainder of the day apparently quiet and composed,
concealing our sadness in the depths of our hearts. She was curious to
know all the circumstances of my miserable adventure, and, accepting
it as an expiation, I related them to her. Full of kindness, she assured
me that we were bound to ascribe that accident to fate, and that the
same thing might have happened to the best of men. She added that I
was more to be pitied than condemned, and that she did not love me
less. We both were certain that we would seize the first favourable
opportunity, she of obtaining her pardon, I of atoning for my crime, by
giving each other new and complete proofs of our mutual ardour. But
Heaven in its justice had ordered differently, and I was cruelly
punished for my disgusting debauchery.
On the third day, as I got up in the morning, an awful pricking
announced