She had desired no gift in return when, to save this contemptible woman's
son and his child, she sacrificed her lover's precious memento; but the
base reward for the kind deed added a burning sense of pain to the
other sorrows which the day had brought. What a shameful crime was
ingratitude! None could be equally hateful to eternal justice, for--she
now learned it by her own experience--ingratitude repaid kindness with
evil instead of with good, and paralyzed the disappointed benefactor's
will to perform another generous deed.

When she entered her sleeping-room the courage which she had summoned
during the walk, and the hope to which she had yielded, appeared to be
scattered and blown away as if by a gust of wind. Besides, she could not
conceal from herself that she had drawn the nails from the planks of her
wrecked ship of life with her own hand.

Did it not seem as if she had intentionally done precisely what she ought
most studiously to have left undone? Her sale of the star had been only
an unfortunate act of weakness, but the dance, the luckless dance! Not
once only, several times Charles had stated plainly enough how unpleasant
it was to him even to hear the amusement mentioned. She had behaved as
if she desired to forfeit his favour.

And why, in Heaven's name, why? To arouse his jealousy?

Fool that she was! This plant took root only in a heart filled with love

And his?

Because she perceived that his love was dying, she had awakened this
fatal passion. Was it not as if she had expected to make a water-lily