Village books

She
had been standing for three hours on the shores of the vast sea of
Doubt. Nights like these are never forgotten. Modeste walked straight
to her little Chinese table, a gift from her father, and wrote a
letter dictated by the infernal spirit of vengeance which palpitates
in the hearts of young girls.

CHAPTER VIII
BLADE TO BLADE
To Monsieur de Canalis:
Monsieur,--You are certainly a great poet, and you are something
more,--an honest man. After showing such loyal frankness to a
young girl who was stepping to the verge of an abyss, have you
enough left to answer without hypocrisy or evasion the following
question?
Would you have written the letter I now hold in answer to mine,
--would your ideas, your language have been the same,--had some
one whispered in your ear (what may prove true), Mademoiselle O.
d'Este M. has six millions and does intend to have a dunce for a
master?
Admit the supposition for a moment. Be with me what you are with
yourself; fear nothing. I am wiser than my twenty years; nothing
that is frank can hurt you in my mind.


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