above all things, that my husband should be worthy of sharing this great
fortune. I wish to be very sure that he will make a good use of it with
me while I am here, and after me, if I must leave this world first.'
I thought of another thing; I thought, 'He who will be my husband must
be some one I can love!' And now, Monsieur le Cure, this is where my
confession really begins. There is a man, who for the last two months,
has done all he can to conceal from me that he loves me; but I do not
doubt that this man loves me. You do love me, Jean?"

"Yes," said Jean, in a low voice, his eyes cast down, looking like a
criminal, "I do love you!"

"I knew it very well, but I wanted to hear you say it, and now I entreat
you, do not utter a single word. Any words of yours would be useless,
would disturb me, would prevent me from going straight to my aim, and
telling you what I positively intend to say. Promise me to stay there,
sitting still, without moving, without speaking. You promise me?"

"I promise you."

Bettina, as she went on speaking, began to lose a little of her
confidence, her voice trembled slightly. She continued, however,
with a gayety that was a little forced:

"Monsieur le Cure, I do not blame you for what has happened, yet all this
is a little your fault."

"My fault!"

"Ah! do not speak, not even you. Yes, I repeat it, your fault. I am