ection. A few
successes with young belles, for whom an epaulette has an irresistible
attraction, had inspired Baron de Bergenheim with a confidence in himself
the simplicity of which excused the conceit. He persuaded himself that he
pleased Clemence because she suited him exactly.

There are singers who pretend to read music at sight; give them a score
by Gluck--"I beg your pardon," they will say, "my part is written here in
the key of 'C' and I sing only in the key of 'G'!" How many men do not
know even the key of 'G' in matters of love! Unfortunately for him,
Bergenheim was one of that number. After three years of married life, he
had not divined the first note in Clemence's character. He decided in his
own mind, at the end of a few months, that she was cold, if not
heartless. This discovery, which ought to have wounded his vanity,
inspired him, on the contrary, with a deeper respect for her; insensibly
this reserve reacted upon himself, for love is a fire whose heat dies out
for want of fuel, and its cooling off is more sudden when the flame is
more on the surface than in the depths.

The revolution of 1830 stopped Christian's career, and gave further
pretexts for temporary absences which only added to the coolness which
already existed between husband and wife. After handing in his
resignation, the Baron fixed his residence at his chateau in the Vosges
mountains, for which he shared the hereditary predilection of his family.
His tastes were in perfect harmony with this dwelling, for he had quickly
become the perfect type of a country gentleman, scorning the court and
rarely leaving his ancestral acres. He was too kind-hearted to exact that
his wife should share his country tastes and retired life. The unlimited
confidence which he had in her, a loyalty which never allowed him to
suppose evil or suspect her, a nature very little inclined to jealousy,
made him allow Clemence the greatest liberty. The young woman lived at
will in Paris with her aunt, or at Bergenheim with her husband, without a
suspicious thought ever entering his head. Really,--what had he to fear?
What wrong could she reproach him with? Was he not full of kindness and
attention toward her? Did he not leave her mistress of her own fortune,
free to do as she liked, to gratify every caprice? He thus lived upon his
faith in the marriage contract, with unbounded confidence and
old-fashioned loyalty.

According to general opinion, Madame de Bergenheim wa