I have not broken in on your retirement; I have not shadowed your steps; I have not kept watch on your actions; I have not surrounded you with spies who would perhaps have brought me the assurance, 'If she quitted the world which outraged her, she was not driven forth by an impulse of wounded pride or noble indignation; she did not even seek to punish those who misunderstood her by her absence; she buried herself where she was unknown, that she might indulge in stolen loves.' Such were the thoughts that came to me, and yet I respected your hiding-place; and to-day I am ready to believe you true, if you will merely say, 'I love no one else!'" Jeannin, who was as fat as a stage financier, paused here to gasp; for the utterance of this string of banalities, this rigmarole of commonplaces, had left him breathless.

He was very much dissatisfied with his performance; and ready to curse his barren imagination.

He longed to hit upon swelling phrases and natural and touching gestures, but in vain.

He could only look at Mademoiselle de Guerchi with a miserable, heart-broken air.

She remained quietly seated, with the same expression of incredulity on her features.
So there was nothing for it but to go on once more.
"But this one assurance that I ask you will not give.