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Pride: One of the Seven Cardinal Sins
"In what way, monsieur?"
"We hate the same man, that is something."
"Whom?"
"M. de Maillefort."
"So you, too, hate him?"
"With a deadly hatred."
"Well, what of it, monsieur?"
"Well, having the same animosity, we may have the same interests."
"I do not understand you, M. de Ravil."
"M. de Macreuse, you are a much too gifted and energetic man to allow yourself to be discouraged by one setback."
"What setback, monsieur?"
"So I will take you into my confidence. I had a fool of a friend, known to you as M. de Mornand, who had designs upon the same heiress that you did."
"M. de Mornand?"
"Yes. Unfortunately, a few minutes after your hasty departure, that d – d marquis exposed him as he had exposed you. That is to say, he has rendered my imbecile friend's marriage with the little Beaumesnil an impossibility."
"But what difference does it make to you whether the heiress does or does not marry your friend?"
"The devil! A great deal of difference! I went into the affair with the expectation of getting a handsome percentage on the dowry, so that accursed hunchback ruined me in ruining Mornand. Do you understand now?"
"Perfectly."
"Mornand is too much of a milksop – too blubbery, in short, to make any attempt to recover from his setback or even to console himself by revenge."
"Revenge? Upon whom?"
"Upon that little ninny of an heiress, and indirectly upon that d – d hunchback. But let me assure you that I am not one of those blockheads who thirst for revenge alone; it is a profitable revenge I am after every time."
"Profitable?"
"Yes, very profitable, and I can furnish the materials for it, too."
"You? And what are your materials, pray?"
"Excuse me. I possess a very valuable secret."
"In relation to Mlle. de Beaumesnil?"
"The same. I can work up this valuable secret alone, however, just as well."
"And yet you offer – "
"To go shares with you? Nothing of the kind. You would think me a simpleton if I did, and you've no fondness for simpletons."
"Then, monsieur, to what purpose – ?"
"You did not embark in such an important enterprise – as my imbecile friend the politician would say – you did not embark in such an important enterprise as your marriage with the greatest heiress in France without backers, without powerful intermediaries and without strong probabilities of success. One does not make such a blunder as that when one is the founder of the St. Polycarpe Mission, – a work, by the way, which has convinced me that you are a remarkably able man, and gained you my sincere admiration. This being the case, you are too high-spirited to submit quietly to such a setback to the atrocious treatment you have received from M. de Maillefort. You may, perhaps, have some means of retrieving your lost ground, or of obtaining your object in some other way, and so long as the little Beaumesnil remains single, a man like you does not abandon hope."
"Well, so be it, monsieur; suppose I have not given up all hope, what then?"
"If you admit that, I will propose that we pool, you, your means of success, and I, my secret. If your hopes are realised, we will not make use of my secret; if they are not realised, my secret will remain a luscious, juicy pear to quench our thirst. In short, if you marry the heiress, you will give me a small percentage on her dowry; if you do not marry her, I will give you a part of the money my secret will gain for me, that is, if the aforesaid secret can not be made to render you valuable assistance in your new attempt."
"All this is worthy of attention," answered Macreuse, after a moment's reflection, for he, too, was beginning to think that he and De Ravil were, indeed, congenial spirits. "But it would be well for me to know what this secret is, and what its influence is likely to be."
"Give me your arm, my dear M. de Macreuse, I am going to state the case plainly to you, for I have nothing to gain by deceiving you, as you will soon see for yourself."
The two men walked on arm in arm and were soon lost in the shadow of the tall houses that bordered one edge of the sidewalk.
CHAPTER XVI
DISINTERESTED AFFECTION
Mlle. de Beaumesnil had promised Herminie that she would come and see her Friday morning, or, in other words, on the day immediately following the ball which the richest heiress in France had attended at Madame de Mirecourt's house, and where M. de Macreuse and M. de Mornand had seen their villainous projects exposed by the Marquis de Maillefort.
Mlle. de Beaumesnil had left the ballroom deeply distressed and terrified by the discoveries she made in relation to her suitors, discoveries which had been completed by Gerald's frank confession concerning the manner in which an heiress was married off; and feeling quite as much contempt as aversion, now, for her guardian and his family, the young girl realised the necessity of taking some decisive action in the matter, her present relations with the Rochaiguës having become intolerable.
It was consequently necessary for her to ask the protection and counsel of some person outside of this family of sage advisers.
Ernestine knew only two persons whom she could trust, – Herminie and M. de Maillefort.
In order to open her heart to Herminie Mlle. de Beaumesnil would be obliged to confess who she really was, but though she had no intention of deferring this revelation much longer, she did long to enjoy once more the inexpressible happiness of receiving those evidences of tender friendship which the duchess supposed she was lavishing upon a poor orphan girl who had to work for her living.
"Heaven grant that she will love me just as much when she knows that I am rich!" thought the heiress, anxiously. "Heaven grant that this discovery may not impair the friendship that a person of Herminie's proud and sensitive nature feels for me!"
Faithful to her promise, and rejoiced to know how entirely worthy Gerald was of Herminie's love, Mlle. de Beaumesnil, accompanied by Madame Laîné, who was to wait for her in the cab, as usual, started early Friday morning for the home of the duchess, for it is needless to say that, after M. de Macreuse's humiliation of the evening before, Mlle. Helena did not come to take her brother's ward to church as usual.
As she neared her friend's home, Ernestine became very uneasy, for though, since her conversation with M. de Senneterre the evening before, the young girl knew for a certainty how perfectly honourable Gerald's intentions were, and how passionately he loved Herminie, Mlle. de Beaumesnil foresaw only too plainly the many difficulties to be overcome before a marriage between the young duke and a penniless music teacher could be brought about.
When Ernestine reached her friend's house, Herminie sprang forward to meet her and embraced her tenderly.
"Ah, I was sure you would not forget your promise, Ernestine," she cried, "for did I not tell you what a comfort your coming would be to me?"
"I trust it may prove so, indeed, my dear Herminie. Have you regained a little of your wonted courage? Are you not more hopeful?"
The duchess shook her head sadly.
"Alas! I can not say that I see any reason to hope," she replied, "but don't let us talk of my troubles now, Ernestine. We will discuss them again when the subject that is now on my mind has ceased to divert my thoughts from them."
"To what subject do you refer?"
"It is a matter that concerns you, Ernestine."
"Me?"
"It is a matter that may exert a very happy influence over your future, my poor, lonely child."
"What do you mean, Herminie?"
"I am not the proper person to explain this mystery to you. I was asked to do so, but fearing I might influence you by the manner in which I presented the case, I refused, wishing your decision to be unbiased by any outside influence, though I will express my opinion afterwards if you wish."
"Good Heavens! What you say, Herminie, mystifies me more and more. What is this very important project?"
"The last time you were here, and while Commander Bernard was again expressing his fervent gratitude to you, M. Olivier begged me to see him the next day on a very important matter, he said. I complied with his request, and the matter was indeed one of grave importance, so grave, in fact, that he asked me to act as his intermediary with you, which I refused to do for reasons I have already explained."
"Ah, then the matter has some connection with M. Olivier?"
"Yes, and I thought it would be better for him to make his wishes known himself, in my presence, if you have no objection."
"And you advise me to grant M. Olivier a hearing, my dear Herminie?"
"I do, Ernestine, because whatever happens and whatever your decision may be, you will, I am sure, be both proud and happy to have heard what he has to tell you."
"Then I am to see M. Olivier. But when, Herminie?"
"To-day, now, if you desire it."
"Where is he?"
"Out in the garden. Counting upon a visit from you this morning, I said to him: 'Come Friday morning. You will not mind waiting in the garden awhile, and if Ernestine consents to see you, I will send for you.'"
"Very well, then, Herminie, have the goodness to send M. Olivier word that I should be pleased to see him."
A moment afterwards M. Olivier Raymond was ushered into the room by Madame Moufflon, the concierge.
"M. Olivier," said Herminie, "Ernestine is ready to listen to you. You know my friendship for her. You know, too, how highly I esteem you, so I trust my presence will prove no restraint."
"I particularly desire your presence, Mlle. Herminie, as I shall, perhaps, find it necessary to appeal to your memory in support of some of my statements," replied Olivier. Then, turning to Mlle. de Beaumesnil, he continued, without making any attempt to conceal his emotion:
"Mademoiselle, permit me to say, first of all, that I must have perfect confidence in the rectitude of my intentions to venture upon the rather peculiar step I am about to take."
"I am certain, in advance, M. Olivier, that this step is worthy of you, of me, and of the friend that is listening to us."
"I think so, too, mademoiselle, so I am going to speak to you in all sincerity, for you may recollect that once before you expressed yourself as grateful to me for my frankness."
"I was certainly deeply touched by it, as Herminie will tell you, M. Olivier."
"Mlle. Herminie can also testify to the deep interest you inspired in my heart, mademoiselle, I will not say from the time of the charity dance," added Olivier, with a faint smile, "but rather from the time of the conversation I had with you that evening."
"It is perfectly true, my dear Ernestine," said Herminie, "that, after your departure, M. Olivier seemed to be deeply touched by the strange mixture of melancholy, frankness, and originality, that he had noticed in your conversation, and his interest seemed to be greatly increased when I told him, without committing any breach of confidence, I trust, that I felt sure your life was far from happy."
"The truth is never a breach of confidence, my dear Herminie. Though one ought, of course, to conceal one's unhappiness from the indifferent, one should at least have the consolation of confessing it to one's friends."
"Then you may be able to understand, mademoiselle," said Olivier, "that, by reason of the very peculiar circumstances of our first interview, there sprang up in my heart, not one of those sudden and violent emotions one sometimes experiences, – I should be uttering an untruth if I asserted this, – but an emotion full of sweetness and charm, together with a lively solicitude for you, a solicitude which memory and reflection rendered more and more keen. Such were my feelings, mademoiselle, when you, at the risk of your own life, saved the uncle whom I love as a father from a horrible death. Then, gratitude and the admiration which so noble an act richly merited were added to the sentiments I already entertained for you, but I should, probably, never have dared to give expression to these feelings had it not been for the unexpected good fortune that has befallen me."
After pausing an instant, as if uncertain whether he had better go on, Olivier added:
"And now, mademoiselle, I find myself again obliged to remind myself and to remind you that you love sincerity above all things."
"Yes, M. Olivier, I do both love and appreciate sincerity above all things."
"Well, mademoiselle, to speak frankly, you are not happy, and the persons with whom you live are not congenial to you. Is this not so?"
"Yes, M. Olivier. The only happiness I have known since my parents' death dates from the hour of my entrance into Madame Herbaut's house."
"I do not wish to sadden you, mademoiselle," continued Olivier, kindly, even tenderly. "I am loath, too, to remind you how hard and precarious the life of a young girl who is dependent upon her own exertions is, and yet, mademoiselle, however courageous and industrious you may be, you cannot forget that you are an orphan, surrounded by selfish, hard-hearted persons, who would cruelly desert you, perhaps, if want or sickness should be your portion, or manifest a humiliating pity towards you which would be even more hard to bear than heartless desertion."
"You are perfectly right, monsieur. Privations, disdain, desertion, these are all I have to expect from the persons around me if I should become really destitute."
"You exposed to disdain and privations, never!" exclaimed Olivier. "No, you must not, you shall not, be treated thus," he continued. "I know that you can count upon Mlle. Herminie's devoted friendship; but poor and honest people like ourselves must not deceive ourselves. Mlle. Herminie may need your aid herself some day. Besides, two devoted friends are better than one, so I would gladly offer myself as well, if I only knew that you had half as much confidence in me as I have true and faithful affection for you."
"Monsieur," said Ernestine, trembling, and casting down her eyes, "I do not know – I am not sure that I ought – "
"Listen one moment, mademoiselle. If I were still a common soldier, for to be a common soldier and a non-commissioned officer really amount to the same thing, I should not have spoken to you on this subject. I should have tried to forget, not my gratitude, but the sentiment that renders it doubly dear to me. Whether I should have succeeded or not, I cannot say. But now I am an officer, and that means a competence to me. Will you allow me to offer this competence to you?"
"Such a future far exceeds my wildest hopes," replied Ernestine, only partially concealing the intense joy Olivier's words caused her.
"Ah, mademoiselle, if you should make me happy by an acceptance of this offer, far from feeling that I was released from a sacred obligation, I should realise that I had only contracted another, – for I should owe the happiness of my life to you, though this debt, at least, I should be certain to pay by my love and devotion. Yes, for why should I not say it, there can be no love deeper or more honourable than mine. There is no cause more holy and generous than that which lies so near my heart."
On hearing Olivier utter these words, in tones of intense earnestness and profound sincerity, Mlle. de Beaumesnil experienced a rapturous emotion hitherto unknown to her, and a vivid blush dyed her throat and brow as she cast a timid glance at Olivier's handsome, manly face, now radiant with love and hope.
So Ernestine had not been mistaken as to the meaning of Olivier's look when he heard, in her presence, of his promotion. The girl saw and felt that she was loved, ardently loved. The proofs of it were so unmistakable, the causes that had produced it were so noble, that she could not doubt its reality.
And to believe, understand, and appreciate all that is noble, tender, and charming in such a love, is that not equivalent to sharing it, above all when one has lived, like Mlle. de Beaumesnil, a prey to apprehensions which recent events had more than justified, and to a distrust which had threatened to destroy all her hopes of future happiness?
And what inexpressible joy it was for her to be able to say to herself:
"It is I, the poor, nameless, penniless orphan, that he loves, because I have proved myself to be sincere, brave, and generous. And I am so truly loved that he offers a life of comparative ease, and an honourable position to me, who seemed destined to a life of poverty, if not absolute want."
And Mlle. de Beaumesnil, agitated by a thousand new emotions, blushing and smiling at the same time, seized the hand of Herminie, by whom she was sitting, and, thus avoiding the necessity of any direct reply to Olivier's proposal, exclaimed:
"You were right, Herminie; I have, indeed, good reason to be proud of M. Olivier's offer."
"And do you accept this offer, Ernestine?" asked Herminie, certain what her friend's reply would be.
Mlle. de Beaumesnil, with a graceful, almost childish movement, threw her arms around the neck of the duchess, kissed her tenderly, and said, almost in a whisper:
"Yes – I accept it."
But she still kept her face almost hidden on her friend's bosom, while Herminie, scarcely able to restrain her tears of sympathetic emotion, turned to the young officer, who was himself deeply moved by this charming scene, and said:
"Ernestine accepts, M. Olivier. I am delighted both on your account and hers, for from this time I feel that her happiness is certain."
"Ah, yes, mademoiselle," cried Olivier, his face radiant with joy, "for from this moment I have the right to devote my life to Mlle. Ernestine."
"I believe in you, and in my future happiness, M. Olivier," said mademoiselle, shyly, raising her head until it rested on Herminie's shoulder. Then, with cheeks slightly flushed, and her beautiful eyes sparkling with purest joy, the girl timidly extended her little hand to the young man.
Olivier trembled, as he touched this hand which he dared not carry to his lips, but he pressed it tenderly with mingled love and deference.
Then, without trying to conceal the tears that filled his eyes, he said:
"By this dear hand so generously given, mademoiselle, I swear to you, and ask your friend to bear witness to my vow, I swear that my life shall be consecrated to your happiness."
CHAPTER XVII
A FRIEND IN NEED
After the vows thus plighted by Mlle. de Beaumesnil and Olivier Raymond in Herminie's presence, the three actors in the scene maintained an almost solemn silence for several minutes.
All three fully realised the gravity of the obligation assumed.
"How delightful it is to be rich," thought Olivier, "for I am rich in comparison with this dear child who has only her own labour to depend upon. What happiness it gives me to be able to assure her an existence superior even to her wildest dreams."
His features were radiant with the delight of this thought, as he broke the silence by saying to Mlle. de Beaumesnil:
"Until I became sure of your consent, mademoiselle, I did not care to broach the subject to your relative, though I have every reason to hope she will accede to my request. Do you not think so? As for my uncle, need I tell you that his joy will almost equal mine, when he knows that he can call you his daughter? If you think proper, mademoiselle, he had better be the one, perhaps, to go to your relative and make known my request."
This proposal threw Ernestine into a state of deep perplexity. Yielding to an outburst of irresistible confidence, that told her that every possible guarantee of safety and happiness would be found in Olivier, she had never once thought of the many difficulties that were sure to arise from the maintenance of the incognito which she dared not throw off at once, however.
But already somewhat familiar with the sudden dilemmas resulting from the position in which she had placed herself, Mlle. de Beaumesnil replied, after a moment's reflection:
"I am hardly able to say to-day whether it had better be M. Bernard or Herminie who goes to my relative to inform her of your intentions – and of my consent. I will think the matter over, and let you know my decision the next time I see you."
"Ernestine is right, M. Olivier," remarked Herminie; "from what I have heard of her relative's disposition, it would be advisable to act with prudence, as – as the consent of this parent is indispensable to Ernestine's marriage."
"I shall be guided entirely by Mlle. Ernestine and by you, Mlle. Herminie, in this matter. Sure of Mlle. Ernestine's consent, I can wait with patience. If you knew with what happiness I think of the future – our future, I can say now! And my brave, kind uncle, how happy he will be surrounded by our care, for it will not be at all unpleasant to you to live with him, will it, Mlle. Ernestine? He is so good and kind, and it would make him so happy to have us with him!"
"Did you not tell me that he would call me his daughter, M. Olivier? I shall be very proud of that title and try to deserve it."
"Tell me, Mlle. Herminie," asked Olivier, addressing the duchess, "after such a reply, can there be a happier man in the world than I?"
"No, M. Olivier," replied the duchess, smothering a sigh as she thought how she, too, might have enjoyed the same felicity if Gerald's position had been as modest as Olivier's; "no, I do not believe there can be any greater happiness than yours, nor any that is more richly deserved."
"We shall not be high and mighty seigneurs, Mlle. Ernestine," said Olivier, smiling, "for a second lieutenant is no great things, but even a single epaulette honourably worn levels all conditions. Besides, I am young, and I shall soon have two epaulettes instead of one, some day I shall become a major, perhaps even a colonel."
"Beware of ambition, M. Olivier," said Ernestine, smiling in her turn.
"That is true. It seems to me that I am devoured with ambition now. It would give me such happiness to see you enjoy the consideration with which the wife of a colonel is surrounded! My poor uncle, too, how proud he would be to see me hold that rank. Then, think of it, Mlle. Ernestine, we should be millionaires on a colonel's pay. And what pleasure it would give me to surround you with comforts and even luxuries enough to make you forget the hardships of your youth, and to at last see my poor uncle placed above the reach of want, for he is sometimes subjected to great privations!"
"Yes, in spite of your generous assistance, M. Olivier," said Ernestine, with deep emotion, "and in spite of the hard work you have been doing all through your furlough."
"Ah, you have been tattling, Mlle. Herminie," said Olivier, gaily.
"At all events, I was entirely disinterested," she retorted; "for when I told Ernestine all the good I knew of you, M. Olivier, I was far from suspecting that you would corroborate my statements so soon."
"And I must tell M. Olivier, with that frankness on which he sets such store, that he misjudges me very much if he thinks I am pining for the luxury he promises me," said Ernestine, smiling.
"And I," said Olivier, "shall reply with equal frankness that I am terribly selfish, and that, in hoping to be able to surround Mlle. Ernestine with luxury, I am thinking only of the pleasure it will give me."
"And I, who am Reason personified," said Herminie, with a melancholy smile, "I shall tell Mlle. Ernestine and M. Olivier that they are two foolish children to indulge in these golden visions. The present should content them."
"Yes, I admit it is wrong," responded Olivier, gaily. "Just see where ambition leads one! I am dreaming of becoming a colonel, instead of saying to myself that my worthy uncle and myself – thanks to my pay as a second lieutenant – have never been so rich before. Think of it, nearly six thousand francs a year – for us two. What happiness to be able to say, 'For us three, Mlle. Ernestine!'"
"Six thousand francs a year? Why, that is an enormous amount," exclaimed the richest heiress in France. "How can any one spend all that money?"
"Poor child!" Olivier said to himself, exulting in his new-found prosperity, "I thought as much. She has been so poor up to this time, that it seems an immense fortune to her."
But he said aloud:
"We shall manage to spend our three thousand francs, all the same, I expect, Mlle. Ernestine. In the first place, I shall always insist upon your being nicely dressed, in simple but elegant toilets. Our rank requires it, you know, mademoiselle. An officer's wife – why, the army regulations require her to be well dressed, you understand."
"If the dignity of your rank is at stake, why, I submit, of course," replied Mlle. de Beaumesnil, laughing, "but only on condition that your dear uncle shall have a pretty garden, as he is so fond of flowers."
"That is understood, Mlle. Ernestine. We can easily find a snug little apartment with a garden in a quiet part of the town, for as I shall belong to the garrison we can not live in the Batignolles any longer. But – great Heavens – "
"What is the matter, M. Olivier?"
"Are you a Bonapartist, Mlle. Ernestine?" inquired the young officer, with comical seriousness.
"Why certainly, M. Olivier. I admire the emperor very much. But why do you ask that question?"
"Then we are lost, mademoiselle, for my poor uncle shelters beneath his roof the most implacable enemy of the great Napoleon that ever lived."
"Indeed!"
"You will shudder to hear her frightful stories of his atrocities; but seriously, Mlle. Ernestine, I shall be obliged to ask your indulgence, and your affection as well, for a very worthy woman, my uncle's housekeeper, who during the ten years she has been in his employ has never allowed a day to pass without lavishing every attention upon him, and without quarrelling with him in the most outrageous manner on the subject of the Corsican ogre."
"Very well, M. Olivier, I will disclose my admiration for the great emperor only to your dear uncle, and play the hypocrite before this worthy woman. Oh, you shall see; I am very politic, and she will love me in spite of my Bonapartism."
Madame Moufflon, the concierge, having rapped at the door, interrupted the conversation by handing a letter to Herminie, who, recognising the handwriting as that of M. de Maillefort, told the portress to ask the messenger to wait, as there might be an answer required.
So Olivier, fearing that a longer stay would be indiscreet, and being also in a hurry to find Commander Bernard, and report the success of his wooing, said to Mlle. de Beaumesnil:
"I came here in a very anxious frame of mind, Mlle. Ernestine. Thanks to you, I am going away the happiest and most contented of men. I need not tell you how impatiently I shall await your decision in regard to your relative. If you think it advisable for my uncle to approach her on the subject, please let me know as soon as possible."
"I will do so at our next interview, which had better take place here, M. Olivier."
"May I not be permitted to bring my uncle?" asked Olivier. "There is so much that he wishes to say to you. He will be so anxious to see you, too, that it would hardly be fair to deny him the favour, for there is nothing he wouldn't be capable of doing in order to reach you, and tell you of his joy and gratitude."
"Herminie and I will not force your dear uncle to any extreme measures, for I, myself, am very impatient to see him again, so à bientôt, M. Olivier."
"A bientôt, mademoiselle."
And Olivier departed, leaving the two girls alone together.
Herminie then opened M. de Maillefort's letter. It read as follows:
"It is still to-morrow, Saturday, my dear child, that I shall call to take you to Mlle. de Beaumesnil, only, if agreeable to you, I will come at three in the afternoon, instead of at noon as we agreed.
"A cousin-germain of mine, the Prince Duc de Haut-Martel, the head of our house, has just died in Hungary.
"I received this news through the Austrian ambassador, upon whom I must call early to-morrow morning for some necessary formalities, which, to my great regret, will prevent me from fulfilling my engagement with you as early as I promised.
"I shall see you, then, to-morrow, my dear child,
"Affectionately,"Maillefort."
"Ernestine, you will excuse me to write a few words in answer to this letter, will you not?" asked Herminie, seating herself at the table.
So, while the duchess was writing to M. de Maillefort, Mlle. de Beaumesnil reflected with growing satisfaction upon the engagement she had just contracted with Olivier.
The duchess wrote M. de Maillefort that she would expect him at three the following afternoon, then rang for Madame Moufflon, and asked her to deliver the note to the messenger.
When the portress had left the room, Herminie returned to Mlle. de Beaumesnil, and, kissing her affectionately, asked:
"You are very happy, are you not, Ernestine?"
"Yes, very happy, Herminie," replied Mlle. de Beaumesnil, "and it was here in your home that this happiness came to me, my dear friend. How generous M. Olivier is! How much he must esteem and love me for him to desire to marry me, when his position is so superior to mine! That, in itself, is enough to make me adore him, and to make me place implicit faith in his promises. With what a feeling of security I can now face the future, however trying may be the circumstances in which I find myself to-day!"
"Yes, Ernestine, you are indeed certain of happiness. Your life cannot fail to be pleasant and fortunate. To love and to be loved worthily is, indeed, a fate to be envied."
And as the contrast between her own future and that of her friend struck her, the poor duchess could not help bursting into tears.
"It is, indeed, true that happiness is always selfish!" cried Ernestine. "Oh, Herminie, forgive me, forgive me! How much you must have suffered! Every word of our conversation with M. Olivier must have pierced your soul! You heard us talk of our mutual love, of our hope of a blissful future, and all the while you felt that you, perhaps, would have to renounce all such joys. Ah, our thoughtlessness must have pained you deeply, my dear Herminie."
"No, no, Ernestine," said the poor duchess, drying her eyes, "on the contrary, your happiness has been a great consolation to me. Has it not enabled me to forget my own grief and despair all the morning?"
