“Henri, you promised us a month.”

“Impossible.”

“A week, then, longer.”

“Not an hour.”

“You are suffering so much, then, poor boy?”

“On the contrary, I have ceased to suffer, and that is why the evil is without a remedy.”

“But, at all events, this woman is not made of bronze; her feelings can be worked upon; I will undertake to persuade her.”

“You cannot do impossibilities, Anne; besides, even were she to allow herself to be persuaded now, it is I who could no longer consent to love her.”

“Well, that is quite another matter.”

“Such is the case, however, my brother.”

“What! if she were now willing, would you be indifferent?  Why, this is sheer madness.”

“Oh! no! no!” exclaimed Henri, with a shudder of horror, “nothing can any longer exist between that woman and myself.”

“What does this mean?” inquired Joyeuse, with marked surprise; “and who can this woman really be?  Come, tell me, Henri; you know very well that we have never had any secrets from each other.”

Henri trembled lest he had said too much, and that, in yielding to the feeling which he had just exhibited, he had opened a channel by means of which his brother would be able to penetrate the terrible secret which he kept imprisoned in his breast.  He therefore fell into an opposite extreme; and, as it happens in such cases, and in order to recall the imprudent words which had escaped him, he pronounced others which were more imprudent still.

“Do not press me further,” he said; “this woman will never be mine, since she belongs to Heaven.”

“Folly!—­mere idle tales!  This woman a nun!  She has deceived you.”

“No, no, this woman has not spoken falsely; she is now an Hospitaliere.  Do not let us speak any further of her, but rather let us respect those who throw themselves at the feet of Heaven.”

Anne had sufficient power over himself not to show the delight this revelation gave him.

He continued:  “This is something new, for you have never spoken to me about it.”

“It is indeed quite new, for she has only recently taken the veil; but I am sure that her resolution, like my own, is irrevocable.  Do not therefore seek to detain me any longer, but embrace me, as you love me.  Permit me to thank you for all your kindness, for all your patience, and for your unceasing affection for a poor heart-broken man, and farewell!”

Joyeuse looked his brother full and steadily in the face; he looked at him like one whose feelings had overcome him, and who relied upon a display of feeling to work upon the feelings of others.  But Henri remained unmoved at this exhibition of emotion on his brother’s part, and replied in no other way but by the same mournful smile.

Joyeuse embraced his brother, and allowed him to depart.

“Go,” he said to himself, “all is not yet finished, and, however great your hurry may be, I shall not be long before I shall have overtaken you.”