I
saw in the shadow of the trees glowworms sparkling on the grass, and, in
the masses of verdure lit up mysteriously by the moon, I traced strange
shapes of fantastic monsters. There was, above all, a little pointed roof
surmounted by a weathercock, buried in the trees at about fifty paces
from my window, which greatly interested me. I could not in the obscurity
make out either door or windows belonging to this singular tower. Was it
an old pigeon-house, a tomb, a deserted summer-house? I could not tell,
but its little pointed roof, with a round dormer window, was extremely
graceful. Was it chance or an artist lull of taste that had covered this
tower with creepers and flowers, and surrounded it with foliage in such
capricious fashion that it seemed to be hiding itself in order to catch
all glances? I was gazing at all this when I heard a faint noise in the
shrubbery. I looked in that direction and I saw--really, it was an
anxious moment--I saw a phantom clad in a white robe and walking with
mysterious and agitated rapidity. At a turning of the path the moon shone
on this phantom. Doubt was impossible; I had before my eyes my friend's
wife. Her gait no longer had that coquettish ease which I had noticed,
but clearly indicated the agitation due to some strong emotion.

I strove to banish the horrible suspicion which suddenly forced itself
into my mind. "No," I said to myself, "so much innocence and beauty can
not be capable of deception; no doubt she has forgotten her fan or her
embroidery, on one of the benches there." But instead of making her way
toward the benches I noticed on the right, the young wife turned to the
left, and soon disappeared in the shadow of the grove in which was hidden
the mysterious turret.

My heart ached. "Where is she going, the hapless woman?" I exclaimed to
myself. "At any rate, I will not let her imagine any one is watching
her." And I hurriedly blew out my candle. I wanted to close my window, go
to bed, and see nothing more, but an invincible curiosity took me back to
the window. I had only been there a few minutes when I plainly
distinguished halting and timid footsteps on the gravel. I could see no
one at first, but there was no doubt that the footsteps were those of a
man. I soon had a proof that I was not mistaken; the elongated outline of
the cousin showed up clearly against the dark mass of shrubbery. I should
have liked to have stopped him, the wretch, for his intention was
evident