“I was afraid of that, as I had no symptoms of disease whatever.”

“But now you really have it, and all through my fault.  I am in despair.”

“Be calm, my angel, my disease is of a very trifling nature.  I am only taking nitre, and in a week I shall be quite well again.  I hope that then . . . .”

“Ah! my dear friend.”

“What?”

“Don’t let us think of that any more, I beseech you.”

“You are disgusted, and not unnaturally; but your love cannot be very strong, Ah! how unhappy I am.”

“I am more unhappy than you.  I love you, and you would be thankless indeed if you ceased to love me.  Let us love each other, but let us not endeavour to give one another proofs of our love.  It might be fatal.  That accursed widow!  She is gone away, and in a fortnight we shall be going also to Bale, where we remain till the end of November.”

The die is cast, and I see that I must submit to your decision, or rather to my destiny, for none but fatal events have befallen me since I came to Switzerland.  My only consoling thought is that I have made your honour safe.”

“You have won my husband’s friendship and esteem; we shall always be good friends.”

“If you are going I feel that I must go before you.  That will tend to convince the wretched author of my woe that there is nothing blame-worthy in my friendship for you.”

“You reason like an angel, and you convince me more and more of your love.  Where are you going?”

“To Italy; but I shall take Berne and Geneva on my way.”

“You will not be coming to Bale, then?  I am glad to hear it, in spite of the pleasure it would give me to see you.  No doubt your arrival would give a handle for the gossips, and I might suffer by it.  But if possible, in the few days you are to remain, shew yourself to be in good spirits, for sadness does not become you.”

We rejoined the ambassador and M.——­ who had not had time to think about us, as my dear Dubois had kept them amused by her lively conversation.  I reproached her for the way in which she husbanded her wit as far as I was concerned, and M. de Chavigni, seizing the opportunity, told us it was because we were in love, and lovers are known to be chary of their words.  My housekeeper was not long in finding a repartee, and she again began to entertain the two gentlemen, so that I was enabled to continue my walk with Madame, who said,—­

“Your housekeeper, my dear friend, is a masterpiece.  Tell me the truth, and I promise to give you a mark of my gratitude that will please you before I go.”

“Speak; what do you wish to know?”

“You love her and she loves you in return.”

“I think you are right, but so far . . . .”