As a rule people viewed the young negro as a sort of phenomenon and, flocking round, overwhelmed him with compliments and questions – and this curiosity, although it had an air of affability, offended his pride. Women’s sweet attention – almost the sole aim of our exertions – far from delighting, filled him with bitterness and indignation. He felt that for them he was a kind of rare animal, an alien, peculiar creature, accidentally transported into their world and having nothing in common with them. He actually envied men who were in no way remarkable, and considered them fortunate in their insignificance.

The thought that nature had not intended him for the joys of requited passion saved him from conceit and vain pretensions, and this gave a rare charm to his manner with women. His conversation was simple and dignified; it pleased Countess L—, who had grown tired of the pompous jests and sly insinuations of French wit. Ibrahim frequently visited her. Gradually she became accustomed to the young negro’s appearance, and even began to find something agreeable about the curly head that stood out so black among the powdered wigs in her drawing-room. (Ibrahim had been wounded in the head, and wore a bandage instead of a wig.) He was twenty-seven years old, tall and well-proportioned, and more than one society beauty gazed at him with sentiments more flattering than mere curiosity; but the prejudiced Ibrahim either noticed nothing or put it down to coquetry. But when his eyes met those of the Countess his distrust vanished. Her look expressed such amiable good-nature, her manner towards him was so simple, so spontaneous, that it was impossible to suspect her of the faintest shadow of coquettishness or mockery.

The idea of love did not enter his head, but to see the Countess every day had now become a necessity for him. He was always seeking to meet her, and every encounter seemed to him an unexpected gift from Heaven. The Countess divined his feelings sooner than he did. Whatever people may say, love without hopes or demands touches a woman’s heart more surely than all the wiles of the seducer. When Ibrahim was present the Countess watched his every movement and took in everything he said; without him she brooded and sank into her habitual absent-minded state. Merville was the first to notice their mutual attraction – and to congratulate Ibrahim. Nothing inflames love so much as an approving remark from an onlooker: love is blind, and, distrusting itself, is quick to snatch at encouragement.

Merville’s words roused Ibrahim. The possibility of possessing the woman he loved had never yet occurred to his imagination; the light of hope suddenly flooded his soul; he fell madly in love. In vain did the Countess, alarmed by the frenzy of his passion, combat it with friendly admonishments and wise counsels; she herself was beginning to waver…. Incautious tokens of approval followed one after another. At last, carried away by the passion she had inspired, the Countess, succumbing to its power, gave herself to the ecstatic Ibrahim.

Nothing can be hidden from the observant eyes of the world. The Countess’s new love affair soon became known to everyone. Some ladies marvelled at her choice; to many it seemed perfectly natural. Some laughed, others regarded her conduct as unpardonably indiscreet. In the first intoxication of passion Ibrahim and the Countess noticed nothing; but soon the equivocal jokes of the men and the caustic remarks of the women began to reach their ears. Hitherto Ibrahim’s distant, cold manner had protected him from such attacks; he suffered them impatiently and did not know how to ward them off. The Countess, accustomed to the respect of society, could not with equanimity see herself an object of calumny and ridicule. With tears in her eyes she complained to Ibrahim, now bitterly reproaching him, now imploring him not to try to defend her lest by some useless brawl he ruin her completely.

A new circumstance now made her position still more difficult: the consequence of their imprudent love became apparent. The Countess with despair told Ibrahim that she was with child. Comfort, advice, suggestions – all were drained and all rejected. The Countess saw that her ruin was inevitable and in utter misery awaited it.

As soon as the Countess’s condition became known gossip began again with renewed vigour; sentimental ladies gave vent to exclamations of horror; men laid wagers as to whether the child would be white or black.