thout
experience, believed so implicitly in the sincerity between word and
thought of this beautiful woman that I was wholly astonished when my
host said to me, after we reached home that evening, "I stayed because I
saw you were dying to do so; but if you do not succeed in making it
all right, I may find myself on bad terms with my neighbors." That
expression, "if you do not make it all right," made me ponder the matter
deeply. In other words, if I pleased Madame de Mortsauf, she would
not be displeased with the man who introduced me to her. He evidently
thought I had the power to please her; this in itself gave me that
power, and corroborated my inward hope at a moment when it needed some
outward succor.

"I am afraid it will be difficult," he began; "Madame de Chessel expects
us."

"She has you every day," replied the countess; "besides, we can send her
word. Is she alone?"

"No, the Abbe de Quelus is there."

"Well, then," she said, rising to ring the bell, "you really must dine
with us."

This time Monsieur de Chessel thought her in earnest, and gave me a
congratulatory look. As soon as I was sure of passing a whole evening
under that roof I seemed to have eternity before me. For many miserable
beings to-morrow is a word without meaning, and I was of the number who
had no faith in it; when I was certain of a few hours of happiness I
made them contain a whole lifetime of delight.

Madame de Mortsauf talked about local affairs, the harvest, the vintage,
and other matters to which I was a total stranger. This usually argues
either a want of breeding or great contempt for the stranger present
who is thus shut out from the conversation, but in this case it was
embarrassment. Though at first I thought she treated me as a child and
I envied the man of thirty to whom she talked of serious matters which
I could not comprehend, I came, a few months later, to understand how
significant a woman's silence often is, and how many thoughts a voluble
conversation masks. At first I attempted to be at my ease and take part
in it, then I perceived the advantages of my situation and gave myself
up to the charm of listening to Madame de Mortsauf's voice. The breath
of her soul rose and fell among the syllables as sound is divided by the
notes of a flute; it died away to the ear as it quickened the pulsation
of the blood. Her way of uttering the terminations in "i" was like a
bird's song; the "ch" as she said it was a kiss, but t