The princess involuntarily felt a shudder at the passage in which M. de Morville said so frankly, that he should be released from his oath when she became a widow.
For the first time in her life, Madame de Hansfeld had a thought which horrified her, and with which she reproached herself as a crime.
* * * * *
She sought, we may say, a refuge in those exalted sentiments with which De Morville's love inspired her, and, like him, saw a future of happiness in a pure and unknown attachment; at least it escaped from the coarse malignity of the world, and would keep hidden in the shade all its delicacy, all its bloom, all its perfume.
To write to De Morville frequently, see him occasionally, and know herself beloved by him, to repeat to him incessantly that she loved him, never to have to blush for this affection so passionately shared, what brilliant what dazzling hopes!
A light knock which she heard at her door recalled Madame de Hansfeld to herself, she shut up De Morville's letter in a secret drawer, and said,—
"Come in."
The door opened, and the Prince de Hansfeld entered his wife's apartment.