His was the Latin turn of thinking; he had fallen in love at thirteen, and he was still capable—he prided himself—of falling in love. I swore I would bring your husband to the gallows,—would plunge you in such want, such distress, that you should have no alternative but the last frightful resource of misery,—and I also swore, that if you had a son he should share the same fate as his father. I want to tell every one. ” They were eating quails when they returned to the topic of love. He took her hand and looked into her eyes and spoke, divided against himself, in a voice that was forced and insincere. “Miss Pellissier, isn’t it?” he said. He halted,—looked fearfully around,—stopped again, and exclaimed aloud, "I don't like the job; and yet it must be done, or Mr.
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