head, which attracted
and satisfied the eye as it stood out in relief against the soft gray
background, rose to take his wife in his arms and carry her to her sofa.
This was what she wanted.

"You promised me," she said, taking his hand which she held between her
own magnetic palms, "to tell me the secret of your researches. Admit,
dear friend, that I am worthy to know it, since I have had the courage
to study a science condemned by the Church that I might be able to
understand you. I am curious; hide nothing from me. Tell me first how
it happened, that you rose one morning anxious and oppressed, when over
night I had left you happy."

"Is it to hear me talk of chemistry that you have made yourself so
coquettishly delightful?"

"Dear friend, a confidence which puts me in your inner heart is the
greatest of all pleasures for me; is it not a communion of souls which
gives birth to the highest happiness of earth? Your love comes back to
me not lessened, pure; I long to know what dream has had the power to
keep it from me so long. Yes, I am more jealous of a thought than of
all the women in the world. Love is vast, but it is not infinite, while
Science has depths unfathomed, to which I will not let you go alone.
I hate all that comes between us. If you win the glory for which
you strive, I must be unhappy; it will bring you joy, while I--I
alone--should be the giver of your happiness."

"No, my angel, it was not an idea, not a thought; it was a man that
first led me into this glorious path."

"A man!" she cried in terror.

"Do you remember, Pepita, the Polish officer who stayed with us in
1809?"

"Do I remember him!" she exclaimed; "I am often annoyed because my
memory still recalls those eyes, like tongues of fire darting from coals
of hell, those hollows above the eyebrows, that broad skull stripped
of hair, the upturned moustache, the angular, worn face!--What awful
impassiveness in his bearing! Ah! surely if there had been a room in any
inn I would never have allowed him to sleep here."

"That Polish gentleman," resumed Balthazar, "was named Adam de
Wierzchownia. When you left us alone that evening in the parlor, we
happened by chance to speak of chemistry. Compelled by poverty to give
up the study of that science, he had become a soldier. It was, I think,
by means of a glass of sugared water that we recognized each other as
adepts. When I ordered Mulquinier to bring the sugar in pieces, the
captain gave a st