menting long
within her before it manifests itself; but when it has done so, it is
the more lasting and destructive. She seems to be virtue and
gentleness personified; without her unhappy temper she might be a
saint, but that destroys all better feelings. I have often surprised
her in designs so atrocious and terrible, that it is difficult to
conceive how one of them could find its way into the soul of a woman,
or how she could harbour it. Such a character, my friend, is not
likely to conquer one's heart."

These confidential communications startled me the more, as I had proofs
of Bertollon's knowledge of men, and his correct judgments. In the
meanwhile, I did not discontinue my visits to Madame Bertollon, and
thought I perceived that she found pleasure in my society. She was
always tranquil, gentle, and seemed suffering. So much beauty and
gentleness changed my respect into sincere friendship. I formed the
resolution of reconciling her to her husband, let it cost what it
would; or, rather, of bringing him back to her arms.

The habit of daily intercourse removed, by degrees, the constraint of
etiquette, and made her society absolutely necessary to me. Once when
I was walking with her in the garden, and she leaned on my arm, she
said: "You are Bertollon's most intimate friend and confidant. I
consider you mine also, and your character gives me a claim on your
kindness. Speak openly, Alamontade, for you know the reason--why does
Bertollon hate me?"

"He does not hate you, madame, he entertains the highest esteem for
you. Hate? he must be a monster if he can do that. No! he is a noble
man, he cannot hate any body."

"You are right: he can hate no one, because he loves no one. He does
not consider himself born for the world, nor for any one; but that the
whole world, and every one in it, is made for him. Education, perhaps,
never poisoned a more feeling heart and a sounder head than his."

"You judge, perhaps, too harshly, madame."

"Would to Heaven I did! Pray convince me of the contrary."

"I convince you? Not so, madame; observe your husband, and you will
change your mind."

"Observe him? I always did so, and always found him the same."

"He is a kind, amiable man, at least."

"Amiable! he is so, he knows it, and takes pains to be so; but,
unfortunately, not to make others happy--only himself. For this I
cannot call him good, although I cannot call him bad."

"Surely, madame, I do not und