"My friend, accept our help, rise in life, make your way and your
fortune and you shall know my hope. And," she added, as if she were
whispering a secret, "never release the hand you are holding at this
moment."

She bent to my ear as she said these words which proved her deep
solicitude for my future.

"Madeleine!" I exclaimed "never!"

We were close to a wooden gate which opened into the park of Frapesle;
I still seem to see its ruined posts overgrown with climbing plants
and briers and mosses. Suddenly an idea, that of the count's death,
flashed through my brain, and I said, "I understand you."

"I am glad of it," she answered in a tone which made me know I had
supposed her capable of a thought that could never be hers.

Her purity drew tears of admiration from my eyes which the selfishness
of passion made bitter indeed. My mind reacted and I felt that she did
not love me enough even to wish for liberty. So long as love recoils
from a crime it seems to have its limits, and love should be infinite.
A spasm shook my heart.

"She does not love me," I thought.

To hide what was in my soul I stooped over Madeleine and kissed her
hair.

"I am afraid of your mother," I said to the countess presently, to