e of calmness, at least,--

"Then I tried every thing in the world to quiet the countess, to move
her, and bring her back to the generous feelings of former days. I was
so completely upset that I hardly knew what I was saying. I hated her
bitterly, and still I could not help pitying her. I am a man; and there
is no man living who would not feel deeply moved at seeing himself the
object of such bitter regrets and such terrible despair. Besides, my
happiness and Dionysia's honor were at stake. How do I know what I said?
I am not a hero of romance. No doubt I was mean. I humbled myself, I
besought her, I told falsehoods, I vowed to her that it was my family,
mainly, who made me marry. I hoped I should be able, by great kindness
and caressing words, to soften the bitterness of the parting. She
listened to me, remaining as impassive as a block of ice; and, when I
paused, she said with a sinister laugh,--

"'And you tell me all that! Your Dionysia! Ah! if I were a woman like
other women, I would say nothing to-day, and, before the year was over,
you would again be at my feet.'

"She must have been thinking of our meeting at the cross-roads. Or was
this the last outburst of passion at the moment when the last ties were
broken off? I was going to speak again; but she interrupted me bruskly,
saying,--

"'Oh, that is enough! Spare me, at least, the insult of your pity! I'll
see. I promise nothing. Good-by!'

"And she escaped toward the house, while I remained rooted to the spot,
almost stupefied, and asking myself if she was not, perhaps at that
moment, telling Count Claudieuse every thing. It was at that moment that
I drew from my gun, almost mechanically, the burnt cartridge and put in
a fresh one. Then, as nothing stirred, I went off with rapid strides."

"What time was it?" asked M. Magloire.

"I could not tell you precisely. My state of mind was such, that I had
lost all idea of time. I went back through the forest of Rochepommier."

"And you saw nothing?"

"No."

"Heard nothing?"

"Nothing."

"Still, from your statement, you could not have been far from Valpinson
when the fire broke out."

"That is true, and, in the open country, I should certainly have seen
the fire; but I was in a dense wood: the trees cut off all view."

"And these same trees prevented the sound of the two shots fired at
Count Claudieuse from reaching your ear?"

"They might have helped to prevent it; but there was no need for that.
I