Paula interrupted De Morville.
"I refuse you, in the first place, because you have sworn never to come to my residence; and then, blamable or not, my husband's conduct ought not to have any influence over mine. There are delicacies of position which no one can better appreciate than you. In a week you shall know more."
"In a week,—not earlier?"
"No."
"How wretched I shall be!"
"Very wretched, truly! You came here overwhelmed, despairing, reproaching yourself for your harshness to your mother, forgetting all that a man like you should never forget. I calm you, console you, offer you the means of at once conciliating your mother's wishes and our interests."
"Yes, yes, you are right. Pardon,—I came here with bad thoughts,—you made me blush, and have again raised me in my own esteem,—you have recalled me to my honour, my plighted word, and my duty to my mother. Thanks, thanks; you are right,—why should we think of to-morrow, when the present hour is so happy? Thanks for coming so immediately when I wrote you that I was overwhelmed by anguish and despair. But now I feel inspired with strength and hope,—my heart beats high: you have saved my life, my honour,—my courage recovers its temper in the fire of your love. I feel I am beloved! I shut my eyes,—I allow myself to be guided by you,—order and I obey, I have no longer any will of my own,—I intrust to you the fate of that love, which is my sole—your sole existence."
"Yes, my sole existence!" exclaimed Madame de Hansfeld, with repressed excitement. "Have implicit confidence in me, and you will see what a woman can do who loves. Write me to-morrow about your mother, and in a week you shall know my secret. Until then, except the letter I request, mind not a word—this I exact."
"Not a word! and why?"
"You shall know,—but promise me what I request, for the sake of our mutual love."