Henri made beneath the windows of Zibeline's apartment. A small garden,
protected by a light fence, was the only obstacle that separated them.
But how much more insuperable was the barrier which his own principles
had raised between this adorable girl and himself.

Had he not told his sister, confided to Eugenie Gontier, and reiterated
to any one that would listen to him, the scruples which forbade him ever
to think of marriage? To change this decision, in asking for the hand of
Mademoiselle de Vermont, would-in appearance, at least--sacrifice to the
allurement of wealth the proud poverty which he had long borne so nobly.

But the demon of temptation was then, as always, lurking in the shadow,
the sole witness of this duel to the death between prejudice and love.

When he returned to his rooms he found another note from his former
mistress:

"You have just had a terrible experience, my dear friend. Nothing
that affects you can be indifferent to me. I beg you to believe,
notwithstanding the grief which our separation causes me, in all the
prayers that I offer for your happiness.

"ARIADNE."

"My happiness? My torture, rather!" he said, the classic name of
Ariadne suggesting the idea that the pseudonym of Tantalus might well be
applied to himself.

But he had long kept a rule to write as little as possible, and was
guarded in making reply to any letter, especially to such a communication