illy, and her mind dwelt
upon it when she was alone before her easel; while near her in his
laboratory, he continued his experiments, or wrote an article in his
office for the Review.

But it was not without a struggle that she permitted herself to judge
him in this way. One does not judge those whom one loves, and she loved
him. Was it not failing in respect to her love that she did not admire
him in every way? When these ideas oppressed her she left her easel and
went to him. Close to him they disappeared. At first, in order not to
disturb him, she entered on tiptoe, walking softly and leaning over his
shoulder, embraced him before he saw or heard her; but he betrayed such
horror, such fear, that she gave up this way of greeting him.

She continued to go to his room, but in a different way. Instead of
surprising him she announced her presence by rattling the handle of
the door, and walking noisily, and instead of receiving her with uneasy
manner he welcomed her joyfully.

"You have finished painting?"

"I have come to see you for a little while."

"Very well, stay with me, do not go away immediately; I am never so
happy, I never work so well, as when I have you near me."

She felt that this was true. When she was with him, whether she spoke or
not, her presence made him happy.

And still she must appear not to look at him too attentively, as if
with the manifest intention of studying him; for she did this during the
first days of their marriage, and angered him so much that he exclaimed:

"Why do you examine me thus? What do you look for in me?"

She learned to watch herself carefully, and when with him to preserve a
discreet attitude that should not offend him. No curious looks, and no
questions. But this was not always easy, so she asked leave to assist
him in his work, and sometimes drew in larger size the designs that he
made for his microscopical studies. In this way the time passed rapidly.
If he were but willing to pass the evening hours in this sweet intimacy,
without a word about going out, how happy she would be! But he never
forgot the hour.

"Allons," he said, interrupting himself, "we must go."

She had never dared to ask the true reason for this "must."

CHAPTER XLI. A TROUBLED SOUL

If she dared not frankly ask him this question: Why must we go out? any
more than the others: Why is it proper that I should go to mass to
be seen? Why should I wear gowns that ruin us? Why do you accept