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THE CONFESSION OF A FOOL 273
her ; her love of pleasure was less pronounced, approach-
ing middle-age made itself felt. How grieved she was
when she lost her first tooth ! Poor girl ! She wept,
put her arms round me and implored me never to cease
loving her. She was now thirty-seven years old. Her
hair had grown thinner, her bosom had sunk like the
waves of the sea after a storm, the stairs tired her little
feet, her lungs no longer worked with the old pressure.
And I, although I had not yet reached my prime,
although my strength was increasing and I enjoyed
excellent health, I loved her more than ever at the
thought that now she would belong entirely to me and
her children. Shielded from temptation, surrounded by
my tender care, she would grow old in the fulfilment of
her duties towards her family. . . .
Her return to a more normal state of mind manifested
itself in many pathetic ways. Realising her hazardous
position as the wife of a comparatively young man of
thirty-eight, she took it into her head to be jealous of
me ; she was more particular about the details of her
dress, and took care of herself during the day, so that
she might be fresh and able to please me in the evening.
She need have had no fear, for I am monogamous by
temperament, and, far from abusing the situation, I did
my utmost to spare her the cruel pangs of jealousy by
giving her proof after proof of my renewed love.
In the autumn I made up my mind to make a tour
through French Switzerland ; I intended to be away for
three weeks, and never stay longer than a day at any
one place.
Marie, still clinging to the idea of my shattered health,
tried to dissuade me.
"I am sure it will kill you," she reiterated.
’’AVe shall seel"
T
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