"How are you, dear Colas," he asked, "are you unwell?" At this
question I first perceived that I had thrown myself on my bed, from
which I jumped up, but had not the courage to take the hand which he
extended to me.

"But what is the matter with you, Colas?" he said again, "you look
confused and pale."

Before I could reply, the voice within me again called, "Disclose all
to him, disclose all to her husband, and a barrier will be raised
between you and his wife; you will remain pure, you will not be the
seducer of a woman, nor the traitor and deceiver of your noble
benefactor and friend."

"Bertollon," said I, hastily, fearing that I might not finish my
confession; "I am unhappy, because I love your wife." I had scarcely
uttered the last syllable when remorse seized me; but it was too late,
it was done, the husband knew all, and I was now for once right. In
the wild tumult of the senses, when powerful passion struggles with the
sense of duty, it is only a sudden and decided act which we perceive to
be a remedy, that can save us. We must as it were forcibly drive the
reluctant body to accomplish it, until we can no more return. I felt
like one who is tossed about by the waves of the ocean, and who, when
on the point of drowning, indistinctly perceives before his giddy eye
the branches on the shore, and hears a voice within him saying, "Seize
them."

Bertollon changed colour and said, "What did you say, Colas?"

"I must go, I must flee Montpellier, you and your wife, for I love
her," replied I.

"I think you are a fool," said he, smiling, and he regained his usual
colour.

"No, Bertollon, I am in earnest; I must not remain here. Your wife is
a virtuous woman! and I fear my intercourse with her will prove her
ruin and my own. It is yet time. You are my friend, my benefactor, I
will not deceive you. Take this bitter confession as a proof of my
love for you. I am too weak to be always master of myself, and your
wife is too lovely for me to remain indifferent near her."

"A saint like you, Colas," said Bertollon, laughing loud, "who with
pious devotion confesses the secrets of his heart to the husband
himself, will not be dangerous to any husband. Compose yourself; you
will remain with us. What folly to make so much ado about a passion?
I trust you, and have suspicion neither of you nor of my wife; let that
suffice. If you love each other, what can I do against your hearts?
If I interpose the world