A Tragic Idyl

by Paul Bourget

"Never!" replied Olivier.

"You wrote a letter to her this morning. Not the one of which I read the beginning, but another. What did you write about?"

"To ask for an interview, nothing more."

"And she? Did she reply?"

"Not personally. She sent word that she was at home."

"Why did you ask for this meeting? What did you say to her?"

"I said what I then thought was the truth. I was overwhelmed by the idea that she was trying to revenge herself upon me through you, and I felt I must arouse a sense of shame in her. She replied to my reproaches and proved to me that she loved you."

And he added:—

"Do not ask me anything more."

Pierre looked at him. The fever of such an interrogation began to scorch him again. A question was burning his lips. He longed to ask, "Did you speak of your past? Did you speak of your love?"