“Well, my dear young friend, what you must do now is not only to forget the unworthy count and his criminal conduct towards you, but also the fault of which you have been guilty.  What is done cannot be undone, and the past is beyond remedy; but compose yourself, and recall the air of cheerfulness which shone on your countenance a week ago.  Then I could read on your face honesty, candour, good faith, and the noble assurance which arouses sentiment in those who can appreciate its charm.  You must let all those feelings shine again on your features; for they alone can interest honest people, and you require the general sympathy more than ever.  My friendship is of little importance to you, but you may rely upon it all the more because I fancy that you have now a claim upon it which you had not a week ago:  Be quite certain, I beg, that I will not abandon you until your position is properly settled.  I cannot at present tell you more; but be sure that I will think of you.”

“Ah, my friend! if you promise to think of me, I ask for no more.  Oh! unhappy creature that I am; there is not a soul in the world who thinks of me.”

She was:  so deeply moved that she fainted away.  I came to her assistance without calling anyone, and when she had recovered her consciousness and some calm, I told her a hundred stories, true or purely imaginary, of the knavish tricks played in Paris by men who think of nothing but of deceiving young girls.  I told her a few amusing instances in order to make her more cheerful, and at last I told her that she ought to be thankful for what had happened to her with Narbonne, because that misfortune would give her prudence for the future.

During that long tete-a-tete I had no difficulty in abstaining from bestowing any caresses upon her; I did not even take her hand, for what I felt for her was a tender pity; and I was very happy when at the end of two hours I saw her calm and determined upon bearing misfortune like a heroine.

She suddenly rose from her seat, and, looking at me with an air of modest trustfulness, she said to me,

“Are, you particularly engaged in any way to-day?”

“No, my dear:” 

“Well, then, be good enough to take me somewhere out of Paris; to some place where I can breathe the fresh air freely; I shall then recover that appearance which you think I must have to interest in my favour those who will see me; and if I can enjoy a quiet sleep throughout the next night I feel I shall be happy again.”

“I am grateful to you for your confidence in me.  We will go out as soon as I am dressed.  Your brother will return in the mean time.”

“Oh, never mind my brother!”

“His presence is, on the contrary, of great importance.  Recollect, my dear Vesian, you must make Narbonne ashamed of his own conduct.  You must consider that if he should happen to hear that, on the very day he abandoned you, you went into the country alone with me, he would triumph, and would certainly say that he has only treated you as you deserved.  But if you go with your brother and me your countryman, you give no occasion for slander.”