r, a skillful and profound physiognomist, instantly perceived the
impression he had produced. "Come," said he to himself, "that is a great
step. Fright has succeeded to disdain and anger. Doubt will come next.
I shall not leave this place, till she has said to me: 'Return soon, my
good M. Baleinier!'" With a voice of sorrowful emotion, which seemed to
come from the very depths of his heart, the doctor thus continued: "I
see, you are still suspicious of me. All I can say to you is falsehood,
fraud, hypocrisy, hate--is it not so?--Hate you? why, in heaven's name,
should I hate you? What have you done to me? or rather--you will perhaps
attach more value to this reason from a man of my sort," added M.
Baleinier, bitterly, "or rather, what interest have I to hate you?--You,
that have only been reduced to the state in which you are by an over
abundance of the most generous instincts--you, that are suffering, as
it were, from an excess of good qualities--you can bring yourself coolly
and deliberately to accuse an honest man, who has never given you any
but marks of affection, of the basest, the blackest, the most abominable
crime, of which a human being could be guilty. Yes, I call it a crime;
because the audacious deception of which you accuse me would not deserve
any other name. Really, my poor child, it is hard--very hard--and I now
see, that an independent spirit may sometimes exhibit as much injustice
and intolerance as the most narrow mind. It does not incense me--no--it
only pains me: yes, I assure you--it pains me cruelly." And the doctor
drew his hand across his moist eyes.

It is impossible to give the accent, the look, the gesture of M.
Baleinier, as he thus expressed himself. The most able and practiced
lawyer, or the greatest actor in the world, could not have played this
scene with more effect than the doctor--or rather, no one could have
played it so well--M. Baleinier, carried away by the influence of the
situations, was himself half convinced of what he said.

In few words, he felt all the horror of his own perfidy but he felt also
that Adrienne could not believe it; for there are combinations of
such nefarious character, that pure and upright minds are unable to
comprehend them as possible. If a lofty spirit looks down into the abyss
of evil, beyond a certain depth it is seized with giddiness, and no
longer able to distinguish one object from the other.

And then the most perverse of men have a day, an hour,