indiscretion? I only thought, that, as you never miss carrying a bunch
of flowers home with you, and sometimes two," she added, with a wicked
twinkle in the corner of her mouth, "you must have found some better
than mine, last night. But Monsieur will, of course, act his own
pleasure."

Thérèse had never appeared to me more charming than at that moment. I
wondered afterwards how I had been able to tear myself away from her,
and was almost angry that I had not thrown down my second bunch, had not
vowed to her that I would never desert her again, and had not confessed
that the pain I had suffered from my folly had more than equalled hers,
since I was never so happy as when I could be near and see her and hear
the music of her voice.

And this was my life, and these the pains I used to suffer. Two tender
passions held alternate possession of my fickle heart, and a constant
struggle was always waging between them for the mastery; and the
impossibility of deciding in favor of either of them, which to accept
and which deny, prevented my yielding to either. Thérèse, however, whose
real presence I could enjoy, upon whose delicious beauty I could feast
my eyes whenever the fancy seized me, and whose voice I could hear,
even when separated from her, possessed a fearful advantage over her
invisible rival, who maintained her position in my interest only by
preserving her incognito and maintaining my curiosity strained to the
highest pitch. My acquaintance with Thérèse became daily more intimate,
and was soon upon such a footing as seemed to authorize my asking her
to accompany me on a Sunday jaunt to one of the thousand resorts of
Parisian pleasure-seekers just beyond the barriers of the city.

She accepted,--of course she did,--and the matter was finally arranged