This is what I claim from you, my friend, my almost brother.

During the last three days Madame has been living in a perfect intoxication of gayety.

On the first day, I dared not look at her; I hated her for not being as unhappy as myself.

The next day I could not bear her out of my sight; and she, Raoul--at least I thought I remarked it--she looked at me, if not with pity, at least with gentleness.

But between her looks and mine, a shadow intervened; another's smile invited hers.