dreadfully. But, strange to say, poor Taillefer, though he suffers
untold agony, is in no danger of dying. He eats and drinks as well as

ever during even short cessations of the pain--nature is so queer! A
German doctor told him it was a form of gout in the head, and that

agrees with Brousson's opinion."
I left the group around the mistress of the house and went away. On

the staircase I met Mademoiselle Taillefer, whom a footman had come to
fetch.

"Oh!" she said to me, weeping, "what has my poor father ever done to
deserve such suffering?--so kind as he is!"

I accompanied her downstairs and assisted her in getting into the
carriage, and there I saw her father bent almost double.

Mademoiselle Taillefer tried to stifle his moans by putting her
handkerchief to his mouth; unhappily he saw me; his face became even

more distorted, a convulsive cry rent the air, and he gave me a
dreadful look as the carriage rolled away.

That dinner, that evening exercised a cruel influence on my life and
on my feelings. I loved Mademoiselle Taillefer, precisely, perhaps,

because honor and decencyforbid的过去式">forbade me to marry the daughter of a
murderer, however good a husband and father he might be. A curious

fatality impelled me to visit those houses where I knew I could meet
Victorine; often, after giving myself my word of honor to renounce the

happiness of seeing her, I found myself that same evening beside her.
My struggles were great. Legitimate love, full of chimerical remorse,

assumed the color of a criminalpassion. I despised myself for bowing
to Taillefer when, by chance, he accompanied his daughter, but I bowed

to him all the same.
Alas! for my misfortune Victorine is not only a pretty girl, she is

also educated, intelligent, full of talent and of charm, without the
slightest pedantry or the faintest tinge of assumption. She converses

with reserve, and her nature has a melancholy grace which no one can
resist. She loves me, or at least she lets me think so; she has a

certain smile which she keeps for me alone; for me, her voice grows
softer still. Oh, yes! she loves me! But she adores her father; she

tells me of his kindness, his gentleness, his excellent qualities.
Those praises are so many dagger-thrusts with which she stabs me to

the heart.
One day I came near making myself the accomplice, as it were, of the

crime which led to the opulence of the Taillefer family. I was on the
point of asking the father for Victorine's hand. But I fled; I

travelled; I went to Germany, to Andernach; and then--I returned! I
found Victorine pale, and thinner; if I had seen her well in health

and gay, I should certainly have been saved. Instead of which my love
burst out again with untoldviolence. Fearing that my scruples might

degenerate into monomania, I resolved to convoke a sanhedrim of sound
consciences, and obtain from them some light on this problem of high

morality and philosophy,--a problem which had been, as we shall see,
still further complicated since my return.

Two days ago, therefore, I collected those of my friends to whom I
attribute most delicacy, probity, and honor. I invited two Englishmen,

the secretary of an embassy, and a puritan; a former minister, now a
mature statesman; a priest, an old man; also my former guardian, a

simple-hearted being who rendered so loyal a guardianship account that
the memory of it is still green at the Palais; besides these, there

were present a judge, a lawyer, and a notary,--in short, all social
opinions, and all practical virtues.

We began by dining well, talking well, and making some noise; then, at
dessert, I related my history candidly, and asked for advice,

concealing, of course, the Taillefer name.
A profound silence suddenly fell upon the company. Then the notary

took leave. He had, he said, a deed to draw.
The wine and the good dinner had reduced my former guardian to

silence; in fact I was obliged later in the evening to put him under
guardianship, to make sure of no mishap to him on his way home.

"I understand!" I cried. "By not giving an opinion you tell me
energetically enough what I ought to do."

On this there came a stir throughout the assembly.
A capitalist who had subscribed for the children and tomb of General

Foy exclaimed:--
"Like Virtue's self, a crime has its degrees."

"Rash tongue!" said the former minister, in a low voice, nudging me
with his elbow.

"Where's your difficulty?" asked a duke whose fortune is derived from
the estates of stubborn Protestants, confiscated on the revocation of

the Edict of Nantes.
The lawyer rose, and said:--

"In law, the case submitted to us presents no difficulty. Monsieur le
duc is right!" cried the legal organ. "There are time limitations.

Where should we all be if we had to search into the origin of
fortunes? This is simply an affair of conscience. If you must

absolutely carry the case before some tribunal, go to that of the
confessional."

The Code incarnate ceased speaking, sat down, and drank a glass of
champagne. The man charged with the duty of explaining the gospel, the

good priest, rose.
"God has made us all frail beings," he said firmly. "If you love the

heiress of that crime, marry her; but content yourself with the
property she derives from her mother; give that of the father to the

poor."
"But," cried one of those pitiless hair-splitters who are often to be

met with in the world, "perhaps the father could make a rich marriage
only because he was rich himself; consequently, the marriage was the

fruit of the crime."
"This discussion is, in itself, a verdict. There are some things on

which a man does not deliberate," said my former guardian, who thought
to enlighten the assembly with a flash of inebriety.

"Yes!" said the secretary of an embassy.
"Yes!" said the priest.

But the two men did not mean the same thing.
A "doctrinaire," who had missed his election to the Chamber by one

hundred and fifty votes out of one hundred and fifty-five, here rose.
"Messieurs," he said, "this phenomenal incident of intellectual nature

is one of those which stand out vividly from the normal condition to
which sobriety is subjected. Consequently the decision to be made

ought to be the spontaneous act of our consciences, a sudden
conception, a promptinwardverdict, a fugitive shadow of our mental

apprehension, much like the flashes of sentiment which constitute
taste. Let us vote."

"Let us vote!" cried all my guests.
I have each two balls, one white, one red. The white, symbol of

virginity, was to forbid the marriage; the red ball sanctioned it. I
myself abstained from voting, out of delicacy.

My friends were seventeen in number; nine was therefore the majority.
Each man put his ball into the wicker basket with a narrow throat,

used to hold the numbered balls when card-players draw for their
places at pool. We were all roused to a more or less keen curiosity;

for this balloting to clarify morality was certainly original.
Inspection of the ballot-box showed the presence of nine white balls!

The result did not surprise me; but it came into my heard to count the
young men of my own age whom I had brought to sit in judgment. These

casuists were precisely nine in number; they all had the same thought.
"Oh, oh!" I said to myself, "here is secret unanimity to forbid the

marriage, and secret unanimity to sanction it! How shall I solve that
problem?"

"Where does the father-in-law live?" asked one my school-friends,
heedlessly, being less sophisticated than the others.

"There's no longer a father-in-law," I replied. "Hitherto, my
conscience has spokenplainly enough to make your verdict superfluous.

If to-day its voice is weakened, here is the cause of my cowardice. I
received, about two months ago, this all-seducing letter."

And I showed them the following invitation, which I took from my
pocket-book:--

"You are invited to be present at the funeralprocession, burial
services, and interment of Monsieur Jean-Frederic Taillefer, of