the way in which she came to the
rescue when a marriage turned out ill. And she had no sinecure: the
result was that she passed the best part of her time in repairing
family rents. That might "last its time," she would say. "And then we
know that what has been well mended sometimes lasts better than what is
new."

A little later, Bernard, in the interest of Aliette, has chivalrously
determined to quit Paris. At Valmoutiers, a fine old place in the
neighbourhood of Fontainebleau, they established themselves for a
country life. Here Aliette tastes the happiest days since her
marriage. Bernard, of course, after a little time is greatly bored.
But so far they have never seriously doubted of their great love for
each other. It is here that M. Feuillet brings on the scene a kind of
character new in his books; perhaps hardly worthy of the other company
there; a sort of female Monsieur de Camors, but without his grace and
tenderness, and who actually commits a crime. How would the morbid
charms of M. de Camors have vanished, if, as his wife once suspected of
him, he had ever contemplated crime! And surely, the showy insolent
charms of Sabine de Tallevaut, beautiful, intellectually gifted,
supremely Amazonian, yet withal not drawn with M. Feuillet's usual
fineness, scarcely hold out for the reader, any more than for [233]
Bernard himself, in the long run, against the vulgarising touch of her
cold wickedness. Living in the neighbourhood of Valmoutiers, in a
somewhat melancholy abode (the mystery of which in the eyes of Bernard
adds to her poetic charm) with her guardian, an old, rich, freethinking
doctor, devoted to research, she comes to Valmoutiers one night in his
company on the occasion of the alarming illness of the only child.
They arrive escorted by Bernard himself. The little Jeanne, wrapped in
her coverlet, was placed upon the table of her play-room, which was
illuminated as if for a party. The illness, the operation (skilfully
performed by the old doctor) which restores her to life, are described
with that seemingly simple pathos in which M. Feuillet's consummate art
hides itself. Sabine remains to watch the child's recovery, and
becomes an intimate. In vain Bernard struggles against the first real
passion of his life;--does everything but send its object out of his
sight. Aliette has divined their secret. In the fatal illness which
follows soon after, Bernard watches over her with tender solicitude;
ho