In short, I praised her
highly and with warmth, giving him to understand that he ought to be
happy.
He made no reply. It was his manner, for he was the driest of men. That
night when all had retired and I had been in bed some fifteen minutes I
heard a knock at my door. I supposed it was some one of my friends who
could not sleep and invited him to enter.
There appeared before my astonished eyes a woman, very pale, carrying a
bouquet in her hands to which was attached a piece of paper bearing these
words: "To Octave, from his friend Desgenais."
I had no sooner read these words when a flash of light came to me. I
understood the meaning of this action of Desgenais in making me this
Turk's gift. It was intended for a lesson in love. That woman loved him,
I had praised her and he wished to tell me that I ought not to love her,
whether I refused her or accepted her.
That made me think. The poor woman was weeping and did not dare dry her
tears for fear I would see them. What threat had he used to make her
come? I did not know. I said to her:
"You may return and fear nothing."
She replied that if she should return Desgenais would send her back to
Paris.
"Yes," I replied, "you are beautiful and I am susceptible to temptation;
but you weep, and your tears not being shed for me, I care nothing for
the rest. Go, therefore, and I will see to it that you are not sent back
to Paris.
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