But he dismissed the minister’s private secretary, and read as follows:—­

“Oh, my dear friend, what a scene I have had to endure!  Though you have made me happy for three years, I have paid dearly for it!  He came in from the office in a rage that made me quake.  I knew he was ugly; I have seen him a monster!  His four real teeth chattered, and he threatened me with his odious presence without respite if I should continue to receive you.  My poor, dear old boy, our door is closed against you henceforth.  You see my tears; they are dropping on the paper and soaking it; can you read what I write, dear Hector?  Oh, to think of never seeing you, of giving you up when I bear in me some of your life, as I flatter myself I have your heart—­it is enough to kill me.  Think of our little Hector!

  “Do not forsake me, but do not disgrace yourself for Marneffe’s
  sake; do not yield to his threats.

“I love you as I have never loved!  I remember all the sacrifices you have made for your Valerie; she is not, and never will be, ungrateful; you are, and will ever be, my only husband.  Think no more of the twelve hundred francs a year I asked you to settle on the dear little Hector who is to come some months hence; I will not cost you anything more.  And besides, my money will always be yours.

“Oh, if you only loved me as I love you, my Hector, you would retire on your pension; we should both take leave of our family, our worries, our surroundings, so full of hatred, and we should go to live with Lisbeth in some pretty country place—­in Brittany, or wherever you like.  There we should see nobody, and we should be happy away from the world.  Your pension and the little property I can call my own would be enough for us.  You say you are jealous; well, you would then have your Valerie entirely devoted to her Hector, and you would never have to talk in a loud voice, as you did the other day.  I shall have but one child—­ours—­you may be sure, my dearly loved old veteran.

“You cannot conceive of my fury, for you cannot know how he treated me, and the foul words he vomited on your Valerie.  Such words would disgrace my paper; a woman such as I am—­Montcornet’s daughter—­ought never to have heard one of them in her life.  I only wish you had been there, that I might have punished him with the sight of the mad passion I felt for you.  My father would have killed the wretch; I can only do as women do—­love you devotedly!  Indeed, my love, in the state of exasperation in which I am, I cannot possibly give up seeing you.  I must positively see you, in secret, every day!  That is what we are, we women.  Your resentment is mine.  If you love me, I implore you, do not let him be promoted; leave him to die a second-class clerk.

  “At this moment I have lost my head; I still seem to hear him
  abusing me.  Betty, who had meant to leave me, has pity on me, and
  will stay for a few days.