by
his reply:

"Let us defer it a little, I beg of you," he said. "I do not feel in a
state fit for travelling."

Days passed; he made no further allusion to the voyage. He was serious,
silent, and cold. The active ardor, almost feverish, which had animated
until then his life, his speech, his eyes, was suddenly quenched.
One symptom which disquieted the Marquise above all was the absolute
idleness to which he now abandoned himself.

He left her in the evening at an early hour. Daniel told the Marquise
that the Count worked no longer; that he heard him pacing up and down
the greater part of the night. At the same time his health failed
visibly. The Marquise ventured once to interrogate him. As they were
both walking one day in the park, she said:

"You are hiding something from me. You suffer, my friend. What is the
cause?"

"There is nothing."

"I pray you tell me!"

"Nothing is the matter with me," he replied, petulantly.

"Is it your son that you regret?"

"I regret nothing." After a few steps taken in silence--"When I think,"
he said, quickly, "that there is one person in the world who considers
me a coward--for I hear always that word in my ear--and who treated me
like a coward, and who believed it when it was said, and believes it
still! If it had been a man, it would be easy, but it was a woman."

After this sudden explosion he was silent.

"Very well; what do you desire?" said the Marquise, with vexation. "Do
you wish that I should go and tell her the truth--tell her that you were
ready to defend her against me--that you love her, and hate me? If it
be that you wish, say so. I believe if this life continues I shall be
capable of doing anything!"

"Do not you also outrage me! Dismiss me, if that will give you pleasure;
but I love you only. My pride bleeds, that is all; and I give you my
word of honor that if you ever affront me by going to justify me, I
shall never in my life see you or her. Embrace me!" and he pressed her
to his heart.

She was calm for a few hours.

The house he occupied was about to be taken again by its proprietor. The
middle of September approached, and it was the time when the Marquise
was in the habit of returning to Paris. She proposed to M. de Camors
to occupy the chateau during the few days he purposed passing in the
country. He accepted; but whenever she spoke of returning to Paris:

"Why so soon?" he would say; "are we not very well here?"

A little later she re