her eyes cast down; then, taking up the discourse on a sudden, and looking upon him, Force me not, said she, to confess a thing to you which I have not the power to own, though I have often designed it; remember only, that it is not prudent a woman of my years, and mistress of her own conduct, should remain exposed in the midst of a court.—What is it, madam, cried monsieur de Cleves, that you lead me to imagine? I dare not speak it, for fear of offending you. Madam de Cleves making no answer, her silence confirmed her husband in what he thought: You say nothing to me, says he, and that tells me clearly, that I am not mistaken.—Alas! sir, answered she, falling on her knees, I am going to make a confession to you, such as no woman ever yet made to her husband; but the innocence of my intentions, and of my conduct, give me power to do it; it is true, I have reasons to absent myself from court, and I would avoid the dangers persons of my age are sometimes liable to; I have never shown any mark of weakness, and I cannot apprehend I ever shall, if you will permit me to retire from court, since now I have not madam de Chartres to assist me in my conduct; however dangerous a step I am taking, I take it with pleasure to preserve myself worthy of you; I ask you a thousand pardons, if I have sentiments which displease you, at least, I will never do so by my actions; consider, that to do what I do, requires more friendship and esteem for a husband than ever wife had; direct my conduct, have pity on me, and, if you can, still love me.
Monsieur de Cleves, all the while she spoke, continued leaning his head on his hand, almost beside himself, and never thought of raising her up. When she had done speaking, and he cast his eyes upon her, and saw her on her knees with her face drowned in tears, inimitably beautiful, he was ready to die for grief, and taking her up in his arms, Have you pity on me, madam, says he, for I deserve it, and pardon me, if in the first moments of an affliction so violent as mine, I do
