"Yes, madam, you are telling me the truth--the truth of the hour--of a
moment of fever and excitement; but this new world, which appears dimly to
you now--this ideal world in which you desire to seek an eternal refuge
against mere transient evils--would never keep all it seems to promise.
Disappointment, regret, misery await you within it--and do not await you
alone. I know not if there be a man gifted with a sufficiently noble mind,
with a sufficiently lofty soul to make you love the new existence of which
you are dreaming to preserve in the reality the almost divine character
which your imagination imparts to it; but I do know that such a task,
sweet as it might be, is beyond my strength; I would be insane, I would be
a wretch, if I were to accept it."

"Is that your final decision? Cannot reflection alter it in any way?"

"In no way."

"Farewell then, sir--ah! unhappy woman that I am!--farewell!"

She grasped my hand, which she wrung convulsively, and then left me.

After she had disappeared, I sat down on the bench, upon which she had
been seated. There, my dear Paul, my whole strength gave way. I hid my
head in my hands and I wept like a child. Thank God, she did not return!

I had at last to gather all my courage in order to appear once more and
for a moment in the ball-room. There was nothing to indicate that my
absence had been noticed, or unfavorably commented upon. Madame de Palme
was dancing and displaying a degree of gayety amounting almost to
delirium. Soon after, supper was announced, and I availed myself of the
general commotion attending that incident, to retire to my room.