one of those lies which a manly conscience does
not easily pardon. He did not forgive himself for it.

"It is so much worse," said he to himself, "as it will prevent nothing. A
person vile enough to pen anonymous letters will not stop there. She will
find the means of again unchaining the madman.... But who wrote those
letters? Gorka may have forged them in order to have an opportunity to
ask me the question he did.... And yet, no.... There are two indisputable
facts--his state of jealousy and his extraordinary return. Both would
lead one to suppose a third, a warning. But given by whom?.... He told me
of twelve anonymous letters.... Let us assume that he received one or
two.... But who is the author of those?"

The immediate development of the drama in which Julien found himself
involved was embodied in the answer to the question. It was not easy to
formulate. The Italians have a proverb of singular depth which the
novelist recalled at that moment. He had laughed a great deal when he
heard sententious Egiste Brancadori repeat it. He repeated it to himself,
and he understood its meaning. 'Chi non sa fingersi amico, non sa essere
nemico. "He who does not know how to disguise himself as a friend, does
not know how to be an enemy." In the little corner of society in which
Countess Steno, the Gorkas and Lincoln Maitland moved, who was
hypocritical and spiteful enough to practise that counsel?

"It is not Madame Steno," thought Julien; "she has related all herself to
her lover. I knew a similar case. But it involved degraded Parisians, not
a Dogesse of the sixteenth century found intact in the Venice of today,
like a flower of that period preserved. Let us strike her off. Let us
strike off, too, Madame Gorka, the truthful creature who could not even
condescend to the smallest lie for a trinket which she desires. It is
that which renders her so easily deceived. What irony!.... Let us strike
off Florent. He would allow himself to be killed, if necessary, like a
Mameluke at the door of the room where his genial brother-in-law was
dallying with the Countess.... Let us strike off the American himself. I
have met such a case, a lover weary of a mistress, denouncing himself to
her in order to be freed from his love-affair. But he was a roue, and had
nothing in common with this booby, who has a talent for painting as an
elephant has a trunk--what irony! He married this octoroon to have money.
But it was a base act which freed him