ath which you are
the cause of, and which cannot give you the trouble you pretend to be
in; I am no longer in a condition to reproach you," added he with a
voice weakened by sickness and grief; "I die through the dreadful grief
and discontent you have given me; ought so extraordinary an action, as
that of your speaking to me at Colomiers, to have had so little
consequences? Why did you inform me of your passion for the Duke de
Nemours, if your virtue was no longer able to oppose it? I loved you
to that extremity, I would have been glad to have been deceived, I
confess it to my shame; I have regretted that pleasing false security
out of which you drew me; why did not you leave me in that blind
tranquillity which so many husbands enjoy? I should perhaps have been
ignorant all my life, that you was in love with Monsieur de Nemours; I
shall die," added he, "but know that you make death pleasing to me, and
that, after you have taken from me the esteem and affection I had for
you, life would be odious to me. What should I live for? to spend my
days with a person whom I have loved so much, and by whom I have been
so cruelly deceived; or to live apart from her and break out openly
into violences so opposite to my temper, and the love I had for you?
That love, Madam, was far greater than it appeared to you; I concealed
the greatest part of it from you, for fear of being importunate, or of
losing somewhat in your esteem by a behaviour not becoming a husband:
in a word, I deserved your affection more than once, and I die without
regret, since I have not been able to obtain it, and since I can no
longer desire it. Adieu, Madam; you will one day regret a man who
loved you with a sincere and virtuous passion; you will feel the
anxiety which reasonable persons meet with in intrigue and gallantry,
and you will know the difference between such a love as I had for you,
and the love of people who only profess admiration for you to gratify
their vanity in seducing you; but my death will leave you at liberty,
and you may make the Duke de Nemours happy without guilt: what
signifies anything that can happen when I am no more, and why should I
have the weakness to trouble myself about it?"

Madam de Cleves was so far from imagining that her husband suspected
her virtue, that she heard all this discourse without comprehending the
meaning of it, and without having any other notion about it, except
that he reproached her for her inclination