held out her hand with a kindly but imperious gesture; then, summoning
a smile to her pale lips, as if obeying, even yet, the woman's impulse
to be gracious:

"I have heard from M. de Champignelles of a message which you have
kindly undertaken to deliver, monsieur," she said. "Can it be
from----"

With that terrible phrase Gaston understood, even more clearly than
before, his own ridiculous position, the bad taste and bad faith of
his behavior towards a woman so noble and so unfortunate. He reddened.
The thoughts that crowded in upon him could be read in his troubled
eyes; but suddenly, with the courage which youth draws from a sense of
its own wrongdoing, he gained confidence, and very humbly interrupted
Mme. de Beauseant.

"Madame," he faltered out, "I do not deserve the happiness of seeing
you. I have deceived you basely. However strong the motive may have
been, it can never excuse the pitiful subterfuge which I used to gain
my end. But, madame, if your goodness will permit me to tell you----"

The Vicomtesse glanced at M. de Nueil, haughty disdain in her whole
manner. She stretched her hand to the bell and rang it.

"Jacques," she said, "light this gentleman to the door," and she
looked with dignity at the visitor.

She rose proudly, bowed to Gaston, and then stooped for the fallen
volume. If all her movements on his entrance had been caressingly
dainty and gracious, her every gesture now was no less severely