too lukewarm an eagerness, might wound the self-love of that beautiful foreigner, and quench the spring from which he seemed invited to draw.  On the other hand, suppose that appearance of interest were only a snare?  Suppose this kindness (ill-explained, as it seemed to him), of which he was so suddenly the object, had no other purpose than to entice him into a step which might be used to compromise him with the Thuilliers?  What a blow to his reputation for shrewdness, and what a role to play!—­that of the dog letting go the meat for the shadow!

We know that la Peyrade was trained in the school of Tartuffe, and the frankness with which that great master declares to Elmire that without receiving a few of the favors to which he aspired he could not trust in her tender advances, seemed to the barrister a suitable method to apply to the present case, adding, however, a trifle more softness to the form.

“Madame la comtesse,” he said, “you have turned me into a man who is much to be pitied.  I was cheerfully advancing to this marriage, and you take all faith in it away from me.  Suppose I break it off, what use can I—­with that great capacity you see in me—­make of the liberty I thus recover?”

“La Bruyere, if I am not mistaken, said that nothing freshens the blood so much as to avoid committing a folly.”

“That may be; but it is, you must admit, a negative benefit; and I am of an age and in a position to desire more serious results.  The interest that you deign to show to me cannot, I think, stop short at the idea of merely putting an end to my present prospects.  I love Mademoiselle Colleville with a love, it is true, which has nothing imperative about it; but I certainly love her, her hand is promised to me, and before renouncing it—­”

“So,” said the countess, hastily, “in a given case you would not be averse to a rupture?  And,” she added, in a more decided tone, “there would be some chance of making you see that in taking your first opportunity you cut yourself off from a better future, in which a more suitable marriage may present itself?”

“But, at least, madame, I must be enabled to foresee it definitely.”

This persistence in demanding pledges seemed to irritate the countess.

“Faith,” she said, “is only a virtue when it believes without seeing.  You doubt yourself, and that is another form of stupidity.  I am not happy, it seems, in my selection of those I desire to benefit.”

“But, madame, it cannot be indiscreet to ask to know in some remote way at least, what future your kind good-will has imagined for me.”

“It is very indiscreet,” replied the countess, coldly, “and it shows plainly that you offer me only a conditional confidence.  Let us say no more.  You are certainly far advanced with Mademoiselle Colleville; she suits you, you say, in many ways; therefore marry her.  I say again, you will no longer find me in your way.”