“I could not experience any weariness in your society, madam; at all events, I can leave you only by your express command, and, in that case, I must spend the next four hours in your ante-room, for M. D—–­ R——­ has told me to wait for him here.”

“If so, you may take a seat.”

Her cold and distant manner repelled me, but I loved her, and I had never seen her so beautiful, a slight fever animating her complexion which was then truly dazzling in its beauty.  I kept where I was, dumb and as motionless as a statue, for a quarter of an hour.  Then she rang for her maid, and asked me to leave her alone for a moment.  I was called back soon after, and she said to me,

“What has become of your cheerfulness?”

“If it has disappeared, madam, it can only be by your will.  Call it back, and you will see it return in full force.”

“What must I do to obtain that result?”

“Only be towards me as you were when I returned from Casopo.  I have been disagreeable to you for the last four months, and as I do not know why, I feel deeply grieved.”

“I am always the same:  in what do you find me changed?”

“Good heavens!  In everything, except in beauty.  But I have taken my decision.”

“And what is it?”

“To suffer in silence, without allowing any circumstance to alter the feelings with which you have inspired me; to wish ardently to convince you of my perfect obedience to your commands; to be ever ready to give you fresh proofs of my devotion.”

“I thank you, but I cannot imagine what you can have to suffer in silence on my account.  I take an interest in you, and I always listen with pleasure to your adventures.  As a proof of it, I am extremely curious to hear the history of your three loves.”

I invented on the spot three purely imaginary stories, making a great display of tender sentiments and of ardent love, but without alluding to amorous enjoyment, particularly when she seemed to expect me to do so.  Sometimes delicacy, sometimes respect or duty, interfered to prevent the crowning pleasure, and I took care to observe, at such moments of disappointment, that a true lover does not require that all important item to feel perfectly happy.  I could easily see that her imagination was travelling farther than my narrative, and that my reserve was agreeable to her.  I believed I knew her nature well enough to be certain that I was taking the best road to induce her to follow me where I wished to lead her.  She expressed a sentiment which moved me deeply, but I was careful not to shew it.  We were talking of my third love, of the woman who, out of pity, had undertaken to cure me, and she remarked,

“If she truly loved you, she may have wished not to cure you, but to cure herself.”