Never!" she cried, with a ring in her voice which painfully affected those about her, "never will I consent to give to any man a degraded hand, a stained reputation.

I loved too well,--yes, I can admit it in my present condition,--I love a creature almost as I love God, and God--" "Hush, my child! do not calumniate God.

Come, my daughter," said the old lady, making an effort, "do not exaggerate the harm done by an infamous joke in which no one believes.

I give you my word, you will live and you shall be happy." "We shall be happy!" cried Savinien, kneeling beside Ursula and kissing her hand; "my mother has called you her daughter." "Enough, enough," said the doctor feeling his patient's pulse; "do not kill her with joy." At that moment Goupil, who found the street door ajar, opened that of the little salon, and showed his hideous face blazing with thoughts of vengeance which had crowded into his mind as he hurried along.
"Monsieur de Portenduere," he said, in a voice like the hissing of a viper forced from its hole.
"What do you want ?" said Savinien, rising from his knees.
"I have a word to say to you." Savinien left the room, and Goupil took him into the little courtyard.
"Swear to me by Ursula's life, by your honor as a gentleman, to do by me as if I had never told you what I am about to tell.

Do this, and I will reveal to you the cause of the persecutions directed against Mademoiselle Mirouet." "Can I put a stop to them ?" "Yes." "Can I avenge them ?" "On their author, yes--on his tool, no." "Why not ?" "Because--I am the tool." Savinien turned pale.
"I have just seen Ursula--" said Goupil.
"Ursula ?" said the lover, looking fixedly at the clerk.
"Mademoiselle Mirouet," continued Goupil, made respectful by Savinien's tone; "and I would undo with my blood the wrong that has been done; I repent of it.