that I am here unknown to any one,
even to my wife."

"I know it," replied Dorsenne. "I have just left the Countess. This
morning I visited the Palais Castagna with her, Hafner, Madame Maitland,
Florent Chapron." He paused and added, thinking it better not to lie on
minor points, "Madame Steno and Alba were there, too."

"Any one else?" asked Boleslas, with so keen a glance that the author had
to employ all his strength to reply:

"No one else."

There was a silence between the two men.

Dorsenne anticipated from his question toward what subject the
conversation was drifting. Gorka, now lying rather than sitting upon the
divan in the small room, appeared like a beast that, at any moment, might
bound. Evidently he had come to Julien's a prey to the mad desire to find
out something, which is to jealousy what thirst is to certain
punishments. When one has tasted the bitter draught of certainty, one
does not suffer less. Yet one walks toward it, barefooted, on the heated
pavement, heedless of the heat. The motives which led Boleslas to choose
the French novelist as the one from whom to obtain his information,
demonstrated that the feline character of his physiognomy was not
deceptive. He understood Dorsenne much better than Dorsenne understood
him. He knew him to be nervous, on the one hand, and perspicacious on the
other. If there was an intrigue between Maitland and Madame Steno, Julien
had surely observed it, and, approached in a certain manner, he would
surely betray it. Moreover--for that violent and crafty nature abounded
in perplexities--Boleslas, who passionately admired the author's talent,
experienced a sort of indefinable attraction in exhibiting himself before
him in the role of a frantic lover. He was one of the persons who would
have his photograph taken on his deathbed, so much importance did he
attach to his person. He would, no doubt, have been insulted, if the
author of 'Une Eglogue Mondaine' had portrayed in a book himself and his
love for Countess Steno, and yet he had only approached the author, had
only chosen him as a confidant with the vague hope of impressing him. He
had even thought of suggesting to him some creation resembling himself.
Yes, Gorka was very complex, for he was not contented with deceiving his
wife, he allowed the confiding creature to form a friendship with the
daughter of her husband's mistress. Still, he deceived her with remorse,
and had never ceased bearing her an affectio