mbition, and left me to myself. I could
not foresee the consequences of a very inoffensive piece of coquetry."
"You see, then, now these consequences. After thirty years, I disown the
child that bears my name; and I say, that, if he is innocent, he suffers
for his mother's sins. Fate would have it that your son should covet his
neighbor's wife, and, having taken her, it is but justice that he should
die the death of the adulterer."
"But you know very well that I have never forgotten my duty."
"I know nothing."
"You have acknowledged it, because you refused to hear the explanation
which would have justified me."
"True, I did shrink from an explanation, which, with your unbearable
pride, would necessarily have led to a rupture, and thus to a fearful
scandal."
The marchioness might have told her husband, that, by refusing to hear
her explanation, he had forfeited all right to utter a reproach; but she
felt it would be useless, and thus he went on,--
"All I do know is, that there is somewhere in this world a man whom I
wanted to kill. Gossiping people betrayed his name to me. I went to him,
and told him that I demanded satisfaction, and that I hoped he would
conceal the real reason for our encounter even from our seconds. He
refused to give me satisfaction, on the ground that he did not owe me
any, that you had been calumniated, and that he would meet me only if I
should insult him publicly."
"Well?"
"What could I do after that? Investigate the matter? You had no doubt
taken your precautions, and it would have amounted to nothing. Watch
you? I should only have demeaned myself uselessly; for you were no doubt
on your guard. Should I ask for a divorce? The law afforded me that
remedy. I might have dragged you into court, held you up to the sarcasms
of my counsel, and exposed you to the jests of your own. I had a right
to humble you, to dishonor my name, to proclaim your disgrace, to
publish it in the newspapers. Ah, I would have died rather!"
The marchioness seemed to be puzzled.
"That was the explanation of your conduct?"
"Yes, that was my reason for giving up public life, ambitious as I
was. That was the reason why I withdrew from the world; for I thought
everybody smiled as I passed. That is why I gave up to you the
management of our house and the education of your son, why I became a
passionate collector, a half-mad original. And you find out only to-day
that you have ruined my life?"
There w
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