THE young woman was the first to break the silence.
"Let us drop the subject, monsieur," she said, sighing heavily. "It arouses too many painful recollections."
"Yes, let us drop it, madame, for I, too, am tortured by many painful recollections from which I am ever striving to escape, for it is cowardly and degrading to permit one's mind to dwell continually upon persons one hates and despises. Ah, madame, I sincerely hope you may never know that mixture of regret, aversion, and love, which renders one's life for ever miserable."
The young woman listened to her companion with profound astonishment, for, when he spoke of himself, it seemed as if he must also be speaking of her, so identical had been their experience; but the reserve which she must necessarily display in her intercourse with a comparative stranger, prevented any such admission on her part; so, quite as much to conceal her real feelings as to gratify her growing curiosity, she remarked:
"You speak of mingled aversion and love, monsieur. How can one both love and hate the same person or thing? Is such a strange contradiction possible?"
"Ah, madame, is not the human heart the greatest of mysteries,—the strangest of enigmas? Ever since the world began, the inexplicable attraction which opposites have for each other has been admitted. How often we see a person who is weak admire one who is strong, and one who is violent and impetuous seek out one who is gentle and timid! What is the cause of this? Is it the desire for a contrast? Or, is it the charm of overcoming a certain difficulty? Nobody knows. The fact remains that persons whose characters are diametrically opposed to our own exercise an inexplicable attraction over us,—inexplicable, yes; for we curse them, we pity them, we despise them, and we hate them; and yet, we can not do without them; or, if they escape us, we regret them as much as we hate them, and forthwith begin to dream of the impossible, that is to say, of acquiring sufficient influence over them to transform them, to imbue them with our own ideas and tastes. Dreams, idle dreams these are, of course, which only serve to make us forget the sad reality for a brief time."
"I, too, have often heard of these strange contradictions. They are the more incomprehensible to me, as the only chance of happiness seems to me to consist in perfect congeniality of temperament."
The young woman paused suddenly, and blushed, deeply regretting words which might be construed as an advance made to a comparative stranger (though this had really been furthest from her thoughts), especially after both she and he had commented on the remarkable similarity in their tastes. But this fear on her part was entirely unnecessary, as the turn the conversation had taken seemed to have plunged her companion into a profound reverie.
A few minutes afterwards, the carriage stopped at the corner of the Rue de Rivoli, and the driver got down from the box to open the door.
"What! are we here already?" exclaimed the stranger, arousing himself; then, motioning the coachman to close the door again, he said: