underbrush with the rapidity of an arrow.

"Drive on quickly to Clochegourde," cried the countess, to whom that
cutting look was like the blow of an axe upon her heart.

The coachman turned to get upon the road to Chinon which was better
than that to Sache. As the carriage again approached the moor we heard

the furious galloping of Arabella's horse and the steps of her dog.
All three were skirting the wood behind the bushes.

"She is going; you will lose her forever," said Henriette.
"Let her go," I answered, "and without a regret."

"Oh, poor woman!" cried the countess, with a sort of compassionate
horror. "Where will she go?"

"Back to La Grenadiere,--a little house near Saint-Cyr," I said,
"where she is staying."

Just as we were entering the avenue of Clochegourde Arabella's dog
barked joyfully and bounded up to the carriage.

"She is here before us!" cried the countess; then after a pause she
added, "I have never seen a more beautiful woman. What a hand and what

a figure! Her complexion outdoes the lily, her eyes are literally
bright as diamonds. But she rides too well; she loves to display her

strength; I think her violent and too active,--also too bold for our
conventions. The woman who recognizes no law is apt to listen only to

her caprices. Those who seek to shine, to make a stir, have not the
gift of constancy. Love needs tranquillity; I picture it to myself

like a vast lake in which the lead can find no bottom; where tempests
may be violent, but are rare and controlled within certain limits;

where two beings live on a flowery isle far from the world whose
luxury and display offend them. Still, love must take the imprint of

the character. Perhaps I am wrong. If nature's elements are compelled
to take certain forms determined by climate, why is it not the same

with the feelings of individuals? No doubt sentiments, feelings, which
hold to the general law in the mass, differ in expression only. Each

soul has its own method. Lady Dudley is the strong woman who can
traverse distances and act with the vigor of a man; she would rescue

her lover and kill jailers and guards; while other women can only love
with their whole souls; in moments of danger they kneel down to pray,

and die. Which of the two women suits you best? That is the question.
Yes, yes, Lady Dudley must surely love; she has made many sacrifices.

Perhaps she will love you when you have ceased to love her!"
"Dear angel," I said, "let me ask the question you asked me; how is it

that you know these things?"
"Every sorrow teaches a lesson, and I have suffered on so many points

that my knowledge is vast."
My servant had heard the order given, and thinking we should return by

the terraces he held my horse ready for me in the avenue. Arabella's
dog had scented the horse, and his mistress, drawn by very natural

curiosity, had followed the animal through the woods to the avenue.
"Go and make your peace," said Henriette, smiling without a tinge of

sadness. "Say to Lady Dudley how much she mistakes my intention; I
wished to show her the true value of the treasure which has fallen to

her; my heart holds none but kind feelings, above all neither anger
nor contempt. Explain to her that I am her sister, and not her rival."

"I shall not go," I said.
"Have you never discovered," she said with lofty pride, "that certain

propitiations are insulting? Go!"
I rode towards Lady Dudley wishing to know the state of her mind. "If

she would only be angry and leave me," I thought, "I could return to
Clochegourde."

The dog led me to an oak, from which, as I came up, Arabella galloped
crying out to me, "Come! away! away!" All that I could do was to

follow her to Saint Cyr, which we reached about midnight.
"That lady is in perfect health," said Arabella as she dismounted.

Those who know her can alone imagine the satire contained in that
remark, dryly said in a tone which meant, "I should have died!"

"I forbid you to utter any of your sarcasms about Madame de Mortsauf,"
I said.

"Do I displease your Grace in remarking upon the perfect health of one
so dear to your precious heart? Frenchwomen hate, so I am told, even

their lover's dog. In England we love all that our masters love; we
hate all they hate, because we are flesh of their flesh. Permit me

therefore to love this lady as much as you yourself love her. Only, my
dear child," she added, clasping me in her arms which were damp with

rain, "if you betray me, I shall not be found either lying down or
standing up, not in a carriage with liveried lackeys, nor on horseback

on the moors of Charlemagne, nor on any other moor beneath the skies,
nor in my own bed, nor beneath a roof of my forefathers; I shall not

be anywhere, for I will live no longer. I was born in Lancashire, a
country where women die for love. Know you, and give you up? I will

yield you to none, not even to Death, for I should die with you."
She led me to her rooms, where comfort had already spread its charms.

"Love her, dear," I said warmly. "She loves you sincerely, not in
jest."

"Sincerely! you poor child!" she said, unfastening her habit.
With a lover's vanity I tried to exhibit Henriette's noble character

to this imperious creature. While her waiting-woman, who did not
understand a word of French, arranged her hair I endeavored to picture

Madame de Mortsauf by sketching her life; I repeated many of the great
thoughts she had uttered at a crisis when nearly all women become

either petty or bad. Though Arabella appeared to be paying no
attention she did not lose a single word.

"I am delighted," she said when we were alone, "to learn your taste
for pious conversation. There's an old vicar on one of my estates who

understands writingsermons better than any one I know; the country-
people like him, for he suits his prosing to his hearers. I'll write

to my father to-morrow and ask him to send the good man here by
steamboat; you can meet him in Paris, and when once you have heard him

you will never wish to listen to any one else,--all the more because
his health is perfect. His moralities won't give you shocks that make

you weep; they flow along without tempests, like a limpid stream, and
will send you to sleep. Every evening you can if you like satisfy your

passion for sermons by digesting one with your dinner. English
morality, I do assure you, is as superior to that of Touraine as our

cutlery, our plate, and our horses are to your knives and your turf.
Do me the kindness to listen to my vicar; promise me. I am only a

woman, my dearest; I can love, I can die for you if you will; but I
have never studied at Eton, or at Oxford, or in Edinburgh. I am

neither a doctor of laws nor a reverend; I can't preachmorality; in
fact, I am altogether unfit for it, I should be awkward if I tried. I

don't blame your tastes; you might have others more depraved, and I
should still endeavor to conform to them, for I want you to find near

me all you like best,--pleasures of love, pleasures of food, pleasures
of piety, good claret, and virtuous Christians. Shall I wear hair-

cloth to-night? She is very lucky, that woman, to suit you in
morality. From what college did she graduate? Poor I, who can only

give you myself, who can only be your slave--"
"Then why did you rush away when I wanted to bring you together?"

"Are you crazy, Amedee? I could go from Paris to Rome disguised as a
valet; I would do the most unreasonable thing for your sake; but how

can you expect me to speak to a woman on the public roads who has
never been presented to me,--and who, besides, would have preached me

a sermon under three heads? I speak to peasants, and if I am hungry I
would ask a workman to share his bread with me and pay him in guineas,

--that is all proper enough; but to stop a carriage on the highway,
like the gentlemen of the road in England, is not at all within my

code of manners. You poor child, you know only how to love; you don't
know how to live. Besides, I am not like you as yet, dear angel; I

don't like morality. Still, I am capable of great efforts to please
you. Yes, I will go to work; I will learn how to preach; you shall

have no more kisses without verses of the Bible interlarded."
She used her power and abused it as soon as she saw in my eyes the

ardent expression which was always there when she began her sorceries.