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A Woman of Thirty

Creator: Balzac, Honoré de, 1799-1850
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below. Julie turned away her head, lest Arthur should see the tears which she succeeded in repressing; his emotion had spread at once to her. She dried her eyes, but she dared not raise them lest he should read the excess of joy in a glance. Her woman's instinct told her that during this hour of danger she must hide her love in the depths of her heart. Yet silence might prove equally dangerous, and Julie saw that Lord Grenville was unable to utter a word. She went on, therefore, in a gentle voice: "You are touched by what I have said. Perhaps such a quick outburst of feeling is the way in which a gracious and kind nature like yours reverses a mistaken judgment. You must have thought me ungrateful when I was cold and reserved, or cynical and hard, all through the journey which, fortunately, is very near its end. I should not have been worthy of your care if I had been unable to appreciate it. I have forgotten nothing. Alas! I shall forget nothing, not the anxious way in which you watched over me as a mother watches over her child, nor, and above all else, the noble confidence of our life as brother and sister, the delicacy of your conduct--winning charms, against which we women are defenceless. My lord, it is out of my power to make you a return----" At these words Julie hastily moved further away, and Lord Grenville
The Life and Adventures of Maj. Roger Sherman Potter

THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF MAJ. ROGER SHERMAN POTTER: TOGETHER WITH AN ACCURATE AND EXCEEDINGLY INTERESTING ACCOUNT OF HIS GREAT ACHIEVEMENTS IN POLITICS, DIPLOMACY, AND WAR,--ALL OF WHICH ARE HERE RECORDED OUT OF SHEER LOVE FOR THE MARTIAL SPIRIT OF THIS TRULY AMBITIOUS NATION. I HERE DECLARE THAT THIS GREAT WORK WAS NEITHER TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH, NOR PRIGGED FROM THE UNPUBLISHED WORK OF ANY ENGLISH AUTHOR, BUT WAS TRULY AND HONESTLY WRITTEN FOR THE ESPECIAL BENEFIT OF MY PUBLISHER. BY PHELEG VAN TRUSEDALE, WHO, WITHOUT ASKING PERMISSION, RESPECTFULLY DEDICATES IT TO HIS FRIEND AND BENEFACTOR, JAMES BUCHANAN, PRESIDENT OF THESE UNITED STATES. NEW YORK: 1858.
made no attempt to detain her. She went to a rock not far away, and there sat motionless. What either felt remained a secret known to each alone; doubtless they wept in silence. The singing of the birds about them, so blithe, so overflowing with tenderness at sunset time, could only increase the storm of passion which had driven them apart. Nature took up their story for them, and found a language for the love of which they did not dare to speak. "And now, my lord," said Julie, and she came and stood before Arthur with a great dignity, which allowed her to take his hand in hers. "I am going to ask you to hallow and purify the life which you have given back to me. Here, we will part. I know," she added, as she saw how white his face grew, "I know that I am repaying you for your devotion by requiring of you a sacrifice even greater than any which you have hitherto made for me, sacrifices so great that they should receive some better recompense than this. . . . But it must be. . . You must not stay in France. By laying this command upon you, do I not give you rights which shall be held sacred?" she added, holding his hand against her beating heart. "Yes," said Arthur, and he rose. He looked in the direction of d'Aiglemont, who appeared on the opposite side of one of the hollow walks with the child in his arms. He had scrambled up on the balustrade by the chateau that little Helene might jump down.