He couldn't entirely hide his passion from her; she perceived it; her vanity was flattered by it and she felt a violent passion for him.

One day, as she was speaking to him of his good fortune in marrying the Princess of Neufchâtel, he said while looking at her with an air in which his passion was entirely declared: "And do you believe, Madame, that there isn't any other fortune I would prefer to that of marrying the Princess?"

The Countess was struck by the Chevalier's looks and words; she regarded him with the same eyes as he regarded her, and there was then an uneasy silence between them stronger than any spoken words.

From that time on, the Countess was in a state of agitation, which gave her no peace; toward her friend she felt remorse to have stolen the heart of a man whom she was going to marry solely in order to be loved, whom she was marrying in the face of everybody's disapproval, and at the cost of her elevated station in life.

This betrayal filled her with horror. The shame and the unhappiness of libertinism presented itself to her spirit; she saw the abyss, where she was hurling herself and she resolved to avoid it.

She held badly to her resolutions. The Princess was almost determined to marry the Knight of Navarre; nevertheless she wasn't content with the passion that he had for her and, despite the passion she had for him and of the care he took to deceive her, she detected the lukewarmness of his sentiments. She complained of it to the Countess; who reassured her; but the complaints of Mademoiselle de Neufchâtel greatly troubled the