I wished that Henriette would demand my blood. I could not tear her
rival in pieces before her, for she avoided speaking of her; indeed,
had I spoken of Arabella, Henriette, noble and sublime to the inmost
recesses of her heart, would have despised my infamy. After five years
of delightful intercourse we now had nothing to say to each other; our
words had no connection with our thoughts; we were hiding from each
other our intolerable pain,--we, whose mutual sufferings had been our
first interpreter.

Henriette assumed a cheerful look for me as for herself, but she was
sad. She spoke of herself as my sister, and yet found no ground on
which to converse; and we remained for the greater part of the time
in constrained silence. She increased my inward misery by feigning to
believe that she was the only victim.

"I suffer more than you," I said to her at a moment when my self-styled
sister was betrayed into a feminine sarcasm.

"How so?" she said haughtily.

"Because I am the one to blame."

At last her manner became so cold and indifferent that I resolved to
leave Clochegourde. That evening, on the terrace, I said farewell to the
whole family, who were there assembled. They all followed me to the lawn
where my horse was waiting. The countess came to me as I took the bridle
in my hand.

"Let us walk down the avenue together, alone," she said.

I gave her my arm, and we passed through the courtyard with slow and
measured steps, as though our rhythmic movement were consoling to us.
When we reached the grove of trees which forms a corner of the boundary
she stopped.

"Farewell, my friend," she said, throwing her head upon my breast and
her arms around my neck, "Farewell, we shall never meet again. God has
given me the sad power to look into the future. Do you remember
the terror that seized me the day you first came back, so young, so
handsome! and I saw you turn your back on me as you do this day when
you are leaving Clochegourde and going to Saint-Cyr? Well, once again,
during the past night I have seen into the future. Friend, we are
speaking together for the last time. I can hardly now say a few words
to you, for it is but a part of me that speaks at all. Death has already
seized on something in me. You have taken the mother from her children,
I now ask you to take her place to them. You can; Jacques and Madeleine
love you--as if you had always made them suffer."

"Death!" I cried, frightened as I looked at her a