at Paris had forbidden me to seek a second among any of that faithless
number--when the Due himself entered my room. Judge of my amaze at
seeing him in person; judge how much greater the amaze became when he
advanced with a grave but cordial smile, offering me his hand!

"'Monsieur de Mauleon,' said he, 'since I wrote to you, facts have become
known to me which would induce me rather to ask your friendship than call
on you to defend your life. Madame la Duchesse has been seriously ill
since we left Paris, and I refrained from all explanations likely to add
to the hysterical excitement under which she was suffering. It is only
this day that her mind became collected, and she herself then gave me her
entire confidence. Monsieur, she insisted on my reading the letters that
you addressed to her. Those letters, Monsieur, suffice to prove your
innocence of any design against my peace. The Duchesse has so candidly
avowed her own indiscretion, has so clearly established the distinction
between indiscretion and guilt, that I have granted her my pardon with a
lightened heart and a firm belief that we shall be happier together than
we have been yet.'

"The Due continued his journey the next day, but he subsequently honoured
me with two or three letters written as friend to friend, and in which
you will find repeated the substance of what I have stated him to say by
word of mouth."

"But why not then have returned to Paris? Such letters, at least, you
might have shown, and in braving your calumniators you would have soon
lived them down."

"You forget that I was a ruined man. When, by the sale of my horses,
etc., my debts, including what was owed to the Duchesse, and which I