Mademoiselle de Montmorency was so astonished that she could make no answer, and let this queen of beauty depart, and believed her to be a fairy, until a workman told her that the fairy was Madame de l’Ile Adam.  Although the adventure was inexplicable, she told her father that she would not give her consent to the proposed marriage until after the autumn, so much is it in the nature of Love to ally itself with Hope, in spite of the bitter pills which this deceitful and gracious, companion gives her to swallow like bull’s eyes.  During the months when the grapes are gathered, Imperia would not let l’Ile Adam leave her, and was so amorous that one would have imagined she wished to kill him, since l’Ile Adam felt as though he had a fresh bride in his arms every night.  The next morning the good woman requested him to keep the remembrance of these joys in his heart.

Then, to know what her lover’s real thoughts on the subject were she said to him, “Poor l’Ile Adam, we were very silly to marry—­a lad like you, with your twenty-three years, and an old woman close to 40.”

He answered her, that his happiness was such that he was the envy of every one, that at her age her equal did not exist among the younger women, and that if ever she grew old he would love her wrinkles, believing that even in the tomb she would be lovely, and her skeleton lovable.

To these answers, which brought the tears into her eyes, she one morning answered maliciously, that Mademoiselle de Montmorency was very lovely and very faithful.  This speech forced l’Ile Adam to tell her that she pained him by telling him of the only wrong he had ever committed in his life—­the breaking of the troth pledged to his first sweetheart, all love for whom he had since effaced from his heart.  This candid speech made her seize him and clasp him to her heart, affected at the loyalty of his discourse on a subject from which many would have shrunk.

“My dear love,” said she, “for a long time past I have been suffering from a retraction of the heart, which has always since my youth been dangerous to my life, and in this opinion the Arabian physician coincides.  If I die, I wish you to make the most binding oath a knight can make, to wed Mademoiselle Montmorency.  I am so certain of dying, that I leave my property to you only on condition that this marriage takes place.”

Hearing this, l’Ile Adam turned pale, and felt faint at the mere thought of an eternal separation from his good wife.

“Yes, dear treasure of love,” continued she.  “I am punished by God there where my sins were committed, for the great joys that I feel dilate my heart, and have, according to the Arabian doctor, weakened the vessels which in a moment of excitement will burst; but I have always implored God to take my life at the age in which I now am, because I would not see my charms marred by the ravages of time.”