myself or to turn nun, whether he remains as he is or becomes worse, it will be none the less true that I love him.  My dear abbe, you know that it must be costing me something to make this confession; and, when my affection for you brings me as a penitent to your feet and to your bosom, you should not humiliate me by your expressions of surprise and your exorcisms!  Consider the matter now; examine, discuss, decide!  Consider the matter now; examine, discuss, decide!  The evil is—­I love him.  The symptoms are—­I think of none but him, I see none but him; and I could eat no dinner this evening because he had not come back.  I find him handsomer than any man in the world.  When he says that he loves me, I can see, I can feel that it is true; I feel displeased, and at the same time delighted.  M. de la Marche seems insipid and prim since I have known Bernard.  Bernard alone seems as proud, as passionate, as bold as myself—­and as weak as myself; for he cries like a child when I vex him, and here I am crying, too, as I think of him.’”

“Dear abbe,” I said, throwing myself on his neck, “let me embrace you till I have crushed your life out for remembering all this.”

“The abbe is drawing the long bow,” said Edmee archly.

“What!” I exclaimed, pressing her hands as if I would break them.  “You have made me suffer for seven years, and now you repent a few words that console me . . .”

“In any case do not regret the past,” she said.  “Ah, with you such as you were in those days, we should have been ruined if I had not been able to think and decide for both of us.  Good God! what would have become of us by now?  You would have had far more to suffer from my sternness and pride; for you would have offended me from the very first day of our union, and I should have had to punish you by running away or killing myself, or killing you—­for we are given to killing in our family; it is a natural habit.  One thing is certain, and that is that you would have been a detestable husband; you would have made me blush for your ignorance; you would have wanted to rule me, and we should have fallen foul of each other; that would have driven my father to despair, and, as you know, my father had to be considered before everything.  I might, perhaps, have risked my own fate lightly enough, if I had been alone in the world, for I have a strain of rashness in my nature; but it was essential that my father should remain happy, and tranquil, and respected.  He had brought me up in happiness and independence, and I should never have forgiven myself if I had deprived his old age of the blessings he had lavished on my whole life.  Do not think that I am full of virtues and noble qualities, as the abbe pretends; I love, that is all; but I love strongly, exclusively, steadfastly.  I sacrificed you to my father, my poor Bernard; and Heaven, who would have cursed us if I had sacrificed my father, rewards us to-day by giving us to each other, tried and not found wanting.  As you grew greater in my eyes I felt that I could wait, because I knew I had to love you long, and I was not afraid of seeing my passion vanish before it was satisfied, as do the passions of feeble souls.  We were two exceptional characters; our loves had to be heroic; the beaten track would have led both of us to ruin.”