THE LETTER

"The beauty then, to end this war,
Offers but a single way which we can hardly guess."

R. IMBERT (_Nouvelles_).

A sweet perfume was exhaled from it.

He opened it with a trembling hand.

That strange intuition of the heart which is named presentiment, told him
that it came from Suzanne.

Pale with emotion he read:


"MONSIEUR L'ABBÉ,

"I do not wish the day to pass without coming to ask your pardon for my
father's conduct towards you, and assure you that he does not think a
single one of his wicked words.

"Do not keep, I pray, an evil memory of me, and believe that I should he
grieved if a single doubt were to remain in your mind as to the sympathy
and respect which you inspire in

"Suzanne Durand.

"P.S. I have much need of your counsels."