"Monsieur de Blenau!--The pleasure of knowing me!" exclaimed the Count. "Good God, is this my reception? Not three months have gone, since your letters flattered me with the title of 'Dear Claude.'--My wounds are better, Mademoiselle de Beaumont, but you seem inclined to inflict others of a more painful nature."
Pauline strove to be composed, and strove to reply, but it was all in vain; Nature would have way, and she burst into tears and sobbed aloud. "Pauline, dearest Pauline!" cried De Blenau, catching her to his bosom unrepulsed: "This must be some mistake--calm yourself, dear girl, and, in the name of Heaven, tell me, what means this conduct to one who loves you as I do?"
"One who loves me, Claude!" replied Pauline, wiping the tears from her eyes; "Oh no, no--But what right had I to think that you would love me? None, none, I will allow. Separated from each other so long, I had no title to suppose that you would ever think of the child to whom you were betrothed, but of whom you were afterwards commanded not to entertain a remembrance--would think of her, after those engagements were broken by a power you could not choose but obey. But still, De Blenau, you should not have written those letters filled with professions of regard, and vows to retain the engagements your father had formed for you, notwithstanding the new obstacles which had arisen. You should not, indeed, unless you had been very sure of your own heart; for it was cruelly trifling with mine," and she gently disengaged herself from his arms.--"I only blame you," she added, "for ever trying to gain my affection, and not for now being wanting in love to a person you have never seen since she was a child."
"Never seen you!" replied De Blenau with a smile: "Pauline, you are as mistaken in that, as in any doubt you have of me. A year has not passed since last we met. Remember that summer sunset on the banks of the Rhone: remember the masked Cavalier who gave you the ring now on your finger: remember the warm hills of Languedoc, glowing with a blush only equalled by your cheek, when he told you that that token was sent by one who loved you dearly, and would love you ever--that it came from Claude de Blenau, who had bid him place the ring on your finger, and a kiss on your hand, and renew the vow that he had long before pledged to you.--Pauline, Pauline, it was himself."