"What, then, mean these delicate attentions to her?"

"You ordered me to marry her, but not to kill her, I suppose?"

She made a strange movement of her eyebrows, which he did not see, for
neither of them looked at the other. After a pause she said:

"She has her son! She has her mother! I have no one but you. Hear me, my
friend; do not make me jealous, for when I am so, ideas torment me which
terrify even myself. Wait an instant. Since we are on this subject, if
you love her, tell me so. You know me--you know I am not fond of petty
artifices. Well, I fear so much the sufferings and humiliations of which
I have a presentiment, I am so much afraid of myself, that I offer you,
and give you, your liberty. I prefer this horrible grief, for it is at
least open and noble! It is no snare that I set for you, believe me! Look
at me. I seldom weep." The dark blue of her eyes was bathed in tears.
"Yes, I am sincere; and I beg of you, if it is so, profit by this moment,
for if you let it escape, you never will find it again."

M. de Camors was little prepared for this decided proposal. The idea of
breaking off his liaison with the Marquise never had entered his mind.
This liaison seemed to him very reconcilable with the sentiments with
which his wife could inspire him.

It was at the same time the greatest wickedness and the perpetual danger
of his life, but it was also the excitement, the pride, and the
magnificent voluptuousness of it. He shuddered. The idea of losing the
love which had cost him so dear exasperated him. He cast a burning glance
on this beautiful face, refined and exalted as that of a warring
archangel.

"My life is yours," he said. "How could you have dreamed of breaking ties
like ours? How could you have alarmed yourself, or even thought of my
feelings toward another? I do what honor and humanity command me--nothing
more. As for you--I love you--understand that."

"Is it true?" she asked. "It is true! I believe you!"

She took his hand, and gazed at him a moment without speaking--her eye
dimmed, her bosom palpitating; then suddenly rising, she said, "My
friend, you know I have guests!" and saluting him with a smile, left the
boudoir.

This scene, however, left a disagreeable impression on the mind of
Camors. He thought of it impatiently the next morning, while trying a
horse on the Champs Elysees--when he suddenly found himself face to face
with his former secretary, Vautrot. He had never seen this per