n my mind, still his apparent good faith and his
simplicity reassured me. I had spoken to him of the letters he had
brought, and he did not appear offended, but saddened. He was ignorant of
the contents, and his friendship for Brigitte led him to censure them
severely. He would have refused to carry them, he said, had he known what
they contained. On account of Brigitte's tone of reserve in his presence,
I did not think he was in her confidence.

I therefore welcomed him with pleasure, although there was always a sort
of awkward embarrassment in our meeting. He was asked to act as
intermediary between Brigitte and her relatives after our departure. When
we three were together he noticed a certain coldness and restraint which
he endeavored to banish by cheerful good-humor. If he spoke of our
liaison it was with respect and as a man who looks upon love as a sacred
bond; in fact, he was a kind friend, and inspired me with full
confidence.

But despite all this, despite all his efforts, he was sad, and I could
not get rid of strange thoughts that came to my mind. The tears I had
seen that young man shed, his illness coming on at the same time as
Brigitte's, I know not what melancholy sympathy I thought I discovered
between them, troubled and disquieted me. Not over a month ago I would
have become violently jealous; but now, of what could I suspect Brigitte?
Whatever the secret she was concealing from me, was she not going away
with me? Even were it possible that Smith could share some secret of
which I knew nothing, what could be the nature of the mystery? What was
there to be censured in their sadness and in their friendship?

She had known him as a child; she met him again after long years just as
she was about to leave France; she chanced to be in an unfortunate
situation, and fate decreed that he should be the instrument of adding to
her sorrow. Was it not natural that they should exchange sorrowful
glances, that the sight of this young man should awaken memories and
regrets? Could he, on the other hand, see her start off on a long
journey, proscribed and almost abandoned, without grave apprehensions? I
felt this that must be the explanation, and that it was my duty to assure
them that I was capable of protecting the one from all dangers, and of
requiting the other for the services he had rendered. And yet a deadly
chill oppressed me, and I could not determine what course to pursue.

When Smith left us in the evening