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He had been told everything, and she called herself
guilty, for he had wept. He had wept scalding tears !
Was it simplicity or artfulness on his part ? Doubtless
both. Love and delusion are inseparable, and it is difficult
to know ourselves as we really are.
But he was not angry with us, and did not insist on
separating us, on condition that we should respect his
good name.
" He is more noble and generous than we are," she said
in her letter, ’*and he still loves both of us."
What a milksop ! He consented to receive in his house
a man who had kissed his wife ; he believed us to be sexless,
able to live side by side, like brother and sister.
It was an insult to my manhood ; henceforth he had
ceased to exist for me.
I stayed at home, a prey to the bitterest disappointment.
I had tasted the apple, and it had been snatched from me.
My imperious love had repented ; she was suffering from
remorse ; she overwhelmed me with reproaches—she, the
temptress ! A fiendish idea flashed through my mind.
Had I been too reserved ? Did she want to break with me
because I had been too timid ? Since the thought of the
crime from which I shrank had not seemed to disturb her,
her passion must be stronger than mine. . . . But come
back to me once more, my love, and I will teach you
better.
At ten o’clock I received a letter from the Baron, in
which he said that his wife was seriously ill.
My reply was a request to be left in peace. "I have
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