The night was dark, without moon or stars, and yet at the end of a quarter of an hour she saw, or rather divined, a shadow crossing the lawn and approaching the window.

She placed her single candle in the furthest corner of her room, and returned to open her window.
He whom she was awaiting was already on the balcony.
As on the first night when we saw him climb it, the young man put his arm around the girl's waist and drew her into the room.

She made but slight resistance; her hand sought the cord of the Venetian blind, unfastened it from the hook that held it, and let it fall with more noise than prudence would have counselled.
Behind the blind, she closed the window; then she fetched the candle from the corner where she had hidden it.

The light illuminated her face, and the young man gave a cry of alarm, for it was covered with tears.
"What has happened ?" he asked.
"A great misfortune!" replied the young girl.
"Oh, I feared it when I saw the signal by which you recalled me after receiving me last night.

But is it irreparable ?" "Almost," answered Amelie.
"I hope, at least, that it threatens only me." "It threatens us both." The young man passed his hand over his brow to wipe away the sweat that covered it.
"Tell me," said he; "you know I am strong." "If you have the strength to hear it," said she, "I have none to tell it." Then, taking a letter from the chimney-piece, she added: "Read that; that is what I received by the post to-night." The young man took the letter, opened it, and glanced hastily at the signature.
"From Madame de Montrevel," said he.
"Yes, with a postscript from Roland." The young man read: MY DEAREST DAUGHTER--I hope that the news I announce will give you as much joy as it has already given our dear Roland and me.
Sir John, whose heart you doubted, claiming that it was only a mechanical contrivance, manufactured in the workshops at Vaucanson, admits that such an opinion was a just one until the day he saw you; but he maintains that since that day he has a heart, and that that heart adores you.
Did you suspect it, my dear Amelie, from his aristocratic and polished manners, when your mother's eyes failed to discern this tenderness.
This morning, while breakfasting with your brother, he formally asked your hand.