indeed pity you, in spite of my misery, for it proves that you have not
the slightest knowledge of the human heart. But I feel certain that you
will come back, provided the man to whom I trust this letter contrives to
find you. Adieu! I expect life or death from you."

I did not require to read that letter twice; I was ashamed and in
despair. M---- M---- was right. I called the Forlanese, enquired from him
whether he had spoken to her in the morning, and whether she looked ill.
He answered that he had found her looking more unhappy every day, and
that her eyes were red from weeping.

"Go down again and wait," I said to him.

I began to write, and I had not concluded my long screed before the dawn
of day; here are, word by word, the contents of the letter which I wrote
to the noblest of women, whom in my unreasonable spite I had judged so
wrongly.

"I plead guilty, madam; I cannot possibly justify myself, and I am
perfectly convinced of your innocence. I should be disconsolate if I did
not hope to obtain pardon, and you will not refuse to forgive me if you
are kind enough to recollect the cause of my guilt. I saw you; I was
dazzled, and I could not realize a happiness which seemed to me a dream;
I thought myself the prey of one of those delightful illusions which
vanish when we wake up. The doubt under which I was labouring could not
be cleared up for twenty-four hours, and how could I express my feverish
impatience as I was longing for that happy moment! It came at last! and
my heart, throbbing with desire and hope, was flying towards you while I
was in the parlour counting the minutes! Yet an hour passed almost
rapidly, and not unnaturally, considering my impatience and the deep