ed me as if involuntarily.
Finally, I entered her room holding in my hand a ticket on which our
places were marked for the carriage to Besancon. I approached her and
placed it in her lap; she stretched out her hand, screamed, and fell
unconscious at my feet.

CHAPTER II. THE DEMON OF DOUBT

All my efforts to divine the cause of so unexpected a change were as
vain as the questions I had first asked. Brigitte was ill, and remained
obstinately silent. After an entire day passed in supplication and
conjecture, I went out without knowing where I was going. Passing the
Opera, I entered it from mere force of habit.

I could pay no attention to what was going on in the theatre, I was so
overwhelmed with grief, so stupefied, that I did not live, so to speak,
except in myself, and exterior objects made no impression on my senses.
All my powers were centred on a single thought, and the more I turned it
over in my head, the less clearly could I distinguish its meaning.

What obstacle was this that had so suddenly come between us and the
realization of our fondest hopes? If it was merely some ordinary event
or even an actual misfortune, such as an accident or the loss of a
friend, why that obstinate silence? After all that Brigitte had done,
when our dreams seemed about to be realized, what could be the nature of
a secret that destroyed our happiness and could not be confided to me?
What! to conceal it from me! And yet I could not find it in my heart to
suspect her. The appearance of suspicion revolted me and filled me with
horror. On the other hand, how could I conceive of inconstancy or of
caprice in that woman, as I knew her? I was lost in an abyss of doubt,
and I could not discover a gleam of light, the smallest point, on which
to base conjecture.

In front of me in the gallery sat a young man whose face was not unknown
to me. As often happens when one is preoccupied, I looked at him without
thinking of him as a personal identity or trying to fit a name on him.
Suddenly I recognized him: it was he who had brought letters to Brigitte
from N------. I arose and started to accost him without thinking what I
was doing. He occupied a place that I could not reach without disturbing
a large number of spectators, and I was forced to await the entr'acte.

My first thought was that if any one could enlighten me it was this
young man. He had had several interviews with Madame Pierson in the last
few days, and I recalled the fact