her eyes, and enter Maurice's house veiled and hiding like a thief. But
that is nothing yet. After some time of this agonizing life her health
is troubled. Quickly she goes to find Maurice! She arrives unexpectedly
and finds him lying upon the sofa smoking a cigar. Without giving him
time to rise, she throws herself into his arms, and, bursting into sobs,
makes her terrible avowal. At first he only gives a start of angry
astonishment, a harsh glance.

"Bah! you must be mistaken."

"I am sure of it, I tell you, I am sure of it!"

She has caught his angry glance and feels condemned in advance. However,
he gives her a cold kiss, and it is with a great effort that she
stammers:

"Maurice--you must--speak to your mother--"

He rises with an impatient gesture and Maria seats herself--her strength
is leaving her--while he walks up and down the room.

"My poor Maria," he begins in a hesitating manner, "I dared not tell you,
but my mother will not consent to our marriage--now, at least."

He lies! He has not spoken to his mother; she knows it. Ah! unhappy
creature! he does not love her! and, discouraged, with a rumbling noise
in her ears, she listens to Maurice as he speaks in his soft voice.

"Oh! be tranquil. I shall not abandon you, my poor child. If what you
say is true-if you are sure of it, then the best thing that you can do,