heerless and
melancholy youth,' he sometimes said to me, 'but it will not last
forever--patience, patience!' Did he really love me? I think so. But his
affection showed itself in a strange manner. Sometimes his voice was so
tender that my heart was touched. At others there was a look of hatred
in his eyes which terrified me. Occasionally he was severe almost to
brutality, and then the next moment he would implore me to forgive him,
order the carriage, take me with him to his jewellers', and insist upon
me accepting some costly ornaments. Madame Leon declares that my jewels
are worth more than twenty thousand francs. At times I wondered if his
capricious affection and sternness were really intended for myself. It
often seemed to me that I was only a shadow--the phantom of some absent
person, in his eyes. It is certain that he often requested me to dress
myself or to arrange my hair in a certain fashion, to wear such and such
a color, or to use a particular perfume which he gave me. Frequently,
when I was moving about the house, he suddenly exclaimed: 'Marguerite! I
entreat you, remain just where you are!'

"I obeyed him, but the illusion had already vanished. A sob or an oath
would come from his lips, and then in an angry voice he would bid me
leave the room."

The magistrate did not raise his eyes from his talismanic ring; it might
have been supposed that it had fascinated him. Still, his expression
denoted profound commiseration, and he shook his head thoughtfully. The
idea had occurred to him that this unfortunate young girl had been the
victim, not precisely of a madman, but of one of those maniacs who have
just enough reason left to invent the tortures they inflict upon those
around them.

Speaking more slowly than before, as if she were desirous of attracting
increased attention on the magistrate's part, Mademoiselle Marguerite
now continued: "If I reminded M. de Chalusse of a person whom he had
formerly loved, that person may have been my mother. I say, MAY HAVE
BEEN, because I am not certain of it. All my efforts to discover
the truth were unavailing. M. de Chalusse seemed to take a malicious
pleasure in destroying all my carefully-arranged theories, and
in upsetting the conjectures which he had encouraged himself only
twenty-four hours previously. Heaven only knows how anxiously I listened
to his slightest word! And it can be easily understood why I did so. My
strange and compromising connection with him drov