“I have known you three months, and for one month have noticed that you feel for me what at your age is called love.  I thought I detected on your part a resolution to conceal this from me and conquer yourself.  I already esteemed you, this enhanced my respect.  I do not reproach you for the past, nor for the weakness of your will.

“What you take for love is nothing more than desire.  I am well aware that many women seek to arouse it; it would be better if they did not feel the necessity of pleasing those who approach them.  Such a feeling is a dangerous thing, and I have done wrong in entertaining it with you.

“I am some years older than you, and ask you not to try to see me again.  It would be vain for you to try to forget the weakness of a moment; what has passed between us can neither be repeated nor forgotten.

“I do not take leave of you without sorrow; I expect to be absent some time; if, when I return, I find that you have gone away, I shall appreciate your action as the final evidence of your friendship and esteem.

“BrigittePierson.”

CHAPTER V

AN INTERVIEW

The fever kept me in bed a week.  When I was able to write I assured Madame Pierson that she should be obeyed, and that I would go away.  I wrote in good faith, without any intention to deceive, but I was very far from keeping my promise.  Before I had gone ten leagues I ordered the driver to stop, and stepped out of the carriage.  I began to walk along the road.  I could not resist the temptation to look back at the village which was still visible in the distance.  Finally, after a period of frightful irresolution, I felt that it was impossible for me to continue on my route, and rather than get into the carriage again, I would have died on the spot.  I told the driver to turn around, and, instead of going to Paris as I had intended, I made straight for N------, whither Madame Pierson had gone.

I arrived at ten in the night.  As soon as I reached the inn I had a boy direct me to the house of her relatives, and, without reflecting what I was doing, at once made my way to the spot.  A servant opened the door.  I asked if Madame Pierson was there, and directed him to tell her that some one wished to speak to her on the part of M. Desprez.  That was the name of our village cure.

While the servant was executing my order I remained alone in a sombre little court; as it was raining, I entered the hall and stood at the foot of the stairway, which was not lighted.  Madame Pierson soon arrived, preceding the servant; she descended rapidly, and did not see me in the darkness; I stepped up to her and touched her arm.  She recoiled with terror and cried out: 

“What do you wish of me?”

Her voice trembled so painfully and, when the servant appeared with a light, her face was so pale, that I did not know what to think.  Was it possible that my unexpected appearance could disturb her in such a manner?  That reflection occurred to me, but I decided that it was merely a feeling of fright natural to a woman who is suddenly touched.