He was still kneeling at her feet, and at these ardently spoken words she leaned towards him, took his upraised face between her hands with a quick, passionate movement, and kissed him fervently on the lips; then she sprang to her feet and began, hurriedly and excitedly, pacing back and forth in the chamber.

“You will be my wife, Isabelle?” cried de Sigognac in agitated tones, thrilling in every nerve from the sweet contact of her pure, lovely mouth—­fresh as a flower, ardent as a flame.

“Never, never,” answered Isabelle, with a clear ring of rapture in her voice.  “I will show myself worthy of such an honour by refusing it.  I did mistake you for a moment, my dearest friend; I did mistake you; forgive me.  Oh! how happy you have made me; what celestial joy fills my soul!  You do respect and esteem me, then, to the utmost?  Ah! de Sigognac, you would really lead me, as your wife, into the hall where all the portraits of your honoured ancestors would look down upon us? and into the chapel, where your dead mother lies at rest?  I could meet fearlessly, my beloved, the searching gaze of the dead, from whom nothing is hidden; the crown of purity would not be wanting on my brow.”

“But what!” exclaimed the young baron, “you say that you love me, Isabelle, with all that true, faithful heart of yours, yet you will not accept me! either as lover or husband?”

“You have offered me your name, de Sigognac, your noble, honoured name, and that is enough for me.  I give it back to you now, after having cherished it for one moment in my inmost heart.  For one instant I was your wife, and I will never, never be another’s.  While my lips were on yours I was saying yes to myself, and oh!  I did not deserve such happiness.  For you, my beloved, it would be a sad mistake to burden yourself with a poor little actress like me, who would always be taunted with her theatrical career, however pure and honourable it may have been.  The cold, disdainful mien with which great ladies would be sure to regard me would cause you keen suffering, and you could not challenge them, you know, my own brave champion!  You are the last of a noble race, de Sigognac, and it is your duty to build up your fallen house.  When, by a tender glance, I induced you to quit your desolate home and follow me, you doubtless dreamed of a love affair of the usual sort, which was but natural; but I, looking into the future, thought of far other things.  I saw you returning, in rich attire, from the court of your gracious sovereign, who had reinstated you in your rights, and given you an honourable office, suitable to your exalted rank.  The chateau had resumed its ancient splendour.  In fancy I tore the clinging ivy from its crumbling walls, put the fallen stones back in their places, restored the dilapidated roof and shattered window-panes, regilded the three storks on your escutcheon over the great entrance door, and in the grand old portico; then, having installed you in the renovated home of your honoured ancestors, I retired into obscurity, stifling a sigh as I bade you adieu, though sincerely rejoicing in your well merited good fortune.”