explaining things and justifying herself. With her face suffused by a
rush of blood she entered the young man's room, whither he had to follow
her, greatly disturbed by this strange adventure. And, as he still left
the door open, it was she who, in her desire to confide her sorrow and
her sin to him, begged that he would close it.

"Oh! I pray you, Monsieur l'Abbe," said she, "do not judge me too
harshly."

He made a gesture as though to reply that he did not allow himself the
right to pass judgment upon her.

"But yes, but yes," she responded; "I know very well that you are
acquainted with my misfortune. You saw me once in Paris behind the church
of La Trinite, and the other day you recognised me on the balcony here!
You were aware that I was there--in that room. But if you only knew--ah,
if you only knew!"

Her lips were quivering, and tears were welling into her eyes. As he
looked at her he was surprised by the extraordinary beauty transfiguring
her face. This woman, invariably clad in black, extremely simple, with
never a jewel, now appeared to him in all the brilliancy of her passion;
no longer drawing back into the gloom, no longer seeking to bedim the
lustre of her eyes, as was her wont. She, who at first sight did not seem
pretty, but too dark and slender, with drawn features, a large mouth and
long nose, assumed, as he now examined her, a troubling charm, a
powerful, irresistible beauty. Her eyes especially--her large,
magnificent eyes, whose brasiers she usually sought to cover with a veil
of indifference--were flaring like torches; and he understood that she
should be loved, adored, to madness.