n as sorrowful as it was
respectful. But it required Dorsenne to admit the like anomalies, and the
rare sensation of being observed in his passionate frenzy attracted the
young man to some one who was at once a sure confidant, a possible
portrayer, a moral accomplice. It was necessary now, but it would not be
an easy matter, to make of him his involuntary detective.

"You see," resumed he suddenly, "to what miserable, detailed inquiries I
have descended, I who always had a horror of espionage, as of some
terrible degradation. I shall question you frankly, for you are my
friend. And what a friend! I intended to use artifice with you at first,
but I was ashamed. Passion takes possession of me and distorts me. No
matter what infamy presents itself, I rush into it, and then I am afraid.
Yes, I am afraid of myself! But I have suffered so much! You do not
understand? Well! Listen," continued he, covering Dorsenne with one of
those glances so scrutinizing that not a gesture, not a quiver of his
eyelids, escaped him, "and tell me if you have ever imagined for one of
your romances a situation similar to mine. You remember the mortal fear
in which I lived last winter, with the presence of my brother-in-law, and
the danger of his denouncing me to my poor Maud, from stupidity, from a
British sense of virtue, from hatred. You remember, also, what that
voyage to Poland cost me, after those long months of anxiety? The press
of affairs and the illness of my aunt coming just at the moment when I
was freed from Ardrahan, inspired me with miserable forebodings. I have
always believed in presentiments. I had one. I was not mistaken. From the
first letter I received--from whom you can guess--I saw that there was
taking place in Rome something which threatened me in what I held dearest
on earth, in that love for which I sacrificed all, toward which I walked
by trampling on the noblest of hearts. Was Catherine ceasing to love me?
When one has spent two years of one's life in a passion--and what
years!--one clings to it with every fibre! I will spare you the recital
of those first weeks spent in going here and there, in paying visits to
relatives, in consulting lawyers, in caring for my sick aunt, in
fulfilling my duty toward my son, since the greater part of the fortune
will go to him. And always with this firm conviction: She no longer
writes to me as formerly, she no longer loves me. Ah! if I could show you
the letter she wrote when I was ab