A change seemed to come over her all at once, and over her
husband also. He is now gloomy and taciturn, now foolishly gay, yet he
is little seen with the Intendant, as before. However it be, Monsieur
Doltaire and Bigot are no longer intimate. What should I care for that,
if Monsieur Doltaire had no power, if he were not the door between
Robert and me? What care I, indeed, how vile he is, so he but serve my
purpose? Let him try my heart and soul and senses as he will; I will
one day purify myself of his presence and all this soiling, and find my
peace in Robert's arms--or in the quiet of a nunnery.

This morning I got up at sunrise, it being the Annunciation of the
Virgin, and prepared to go to mass in the chapel of the Ursulines. How
peaceful was the world! So still, so still. The smoke came curling up
here and there through the sweet air of spring, a snowbird tripped along
the white coverlet of the earth, and before a Calvary, I saw a peasant
kneel and say an Ave as he went to market. There was springtime in the
sun, in the smell of the air; springtime everywhere but in my heart,
which was all winter. I seemed alone--alone--alone. I felt the tears
start. But that was for a moment only, I am glad to say, for I got my
courage again, as I did the night before when Monsieur Doltaire placed
his arm at my waist, and poured into my ears a torrent of protestations.

I did not move at first. But I could feel my cheeks go to stone, and
something clamp my heart. Yet had ever man such hateful eloquence! There
is that in him--oh, shame! oh, shame!--which goes far with a woman. He
has the music of passion, and though it is lower than love, it is the
poetry of the senses. I spoke to him calmly, I think, begging him place
his merits where they would have better entertainment; but I said hard,
cold things at last, when other means availed not; which presently made
him turn upon me in another fashion.

His words dropped slowly, with a consummate carefulness, his manner was
pointedly courteous, yet there was an underpressure of force, of will,
which made me see the danger of my position. He said that I was quite
right; that he would wish no privilege of a woman which was not given
with a frank eagerness; that to him no woman was worth the having who
did not throw her whole nature into the giving. Constancy--that was
another matter. But a perfect gift while there was giving at all--that
was the way.

"There is something behind all this