him at the opera, in her box. Certainly, she had not encouraged him
to come. It was the truth.

It was the truth. But the old poison, slowly accumulating in his mind,
burned him. She made the past, the irreparable past, present to him, by
her avowals. He saw images of it which tortured him. He said:

"I do not believe you."

And he added:

"And if I believed you, I could not see you again, because of the idea
that you have loved that man. I have told you, I have written to you,
you remember, that I did not wish him to be that man. And since--"

He stopped.

She said:

"You know very well that since then nothing has happened."

He replied, with violence:

"Since then I have seen him."

They remained silent for a long time. Then she said, surprised and
plaintive:

"But, my friend, you should have thought that a woman such as I, married
as I was--every day one sees women bring to their lovers a past darker
than mine and yet they inspire love. Ah, my past--if you knew how
insignificant it was!"

"I know what you can give. One can not forgive to you what one may
forgive to another."

"But, my friend, I am like others."

"No, you are not like others. To you one can not forgive anything."

He talked with set teeth. His eyes, which she had seen so large, glowing
with tenderness, were now dry, harsh, narrowed between wrinkled lids and
cast a new glance at her. He frightened her. She went to the rear of
the room, sat on a chair, and there she remained, trembling, for a long
time, smothered by her sobs. Then she broke into tears.

He sighed:

"Why did I ever know you?"

She replied, weeping:

"I do not regret having known you. I am dying of it, and I do not regret
it. I have loved."

He stubbornly continued to make her suffer. He felt that he was playing
an odious part, but he could not stop.

"It is possible, after all, that you have loved me too."

She answered, with soft bitterness:

"But I have loved only you. I have loved you too much. And it is for
that you are punishing me. Oh, can you think that I was to another what
I have been to you?"

"Why not?"

She looked at him without force and without courage.

"It is true that you do not believe me."

She added softly:

"If I killed myself would you believe me?"

"No, I would not believe you."

She wiped her cheeks with her handkerchief; then, lifting her eyes,
shining through her tears, she said:

"Then, all is at an end!"

She rose,