household battalion would make a furious
sortie; should I succeed in overthrowing them and take up my quarters in
the trenches, there would then be a gathering of the reserve force,
and boiling oil or tar would rain upon my head, representing virtue,
religion, heaven, and hell."

"A sort of conjugal earthquake," interrupted Marillac.

"I calculated the strength and approximate duration of these means of
defence. The whole thing appeared to me only a question of time, a few
days or weeks at most--so long on the husband's account, so long on the
father confessor's account. I deserved to be boxed on the ears for my
presumption; I was.

"A combat is necessary in order to secure a victory. In spite of all my
efforts and ruses, it was not possible for me to fight this combat;
I did not succeed, in spite of all my challenges, in shattering, as I
expected, this virtuous conjugal fortress. Madame de Bergenheim still
persisted in her systematic reserve, with incredible prudence and
skill. During the remainder of the winter, I did not find more than one
opportunity of speaking to her alone. As I was a permanent fixture every
evening in her aunt's parlors, she entered them only when other guests
were there. She never went out alone, and in every place where I was
likely to meet her I was sure to find a triple rampart of women erected
between us, through which it was impossible to address one word to her.
In short, I was encountering a desperate resistance; and, yet, she loved
me! I could see her cheeks gradually grow pale; her brilliant eyes often
had dark rings beneath them, as if sleep had deserted her. Sometimes,
when she thought she was not observed, I surprised them fastened upon
me; but she immediately turned them away.

"She had been coquettish and indifferent; she was now loving but
virtuous.

"Spring came. One afternoon I went to call upon Mademoiselle de
Corandeuil, who had been ill for several days. I was received, however,
probably through some mistake of the servants. As I entered the room I
saw Madame de Bergenheim; she was alone at her embroidery, seated upon
a divan. There were several vases of flowers in the windows, whose
curtains only permitted a soft, mysterious light to penetrate the room.
The perfume from the flowers, the sort of obscurity, the solitude in
which I found her, overcame me for a moment; I was obliged to pause in
order to quiet the beating of my heart.

"She arose as she heard my name anno