forced himself, on the way, to form
various plans, ceased to think of Odette; he even reached the stage,
while he undressed, of turning over all sorts of happy ideas in his
mind: it was with a light heart, buoyed with the anticipation of going
to see some favourite work of art on the morrow, that he jumped into
bed and turned out the light; but no sooner had he made himself ready
to sleep, relaxing a self-control of which he was not even conscious,
so habitual had it become, than an icy shudder convulsed his body and he
burst into sobs. He did not wish to know why, but dried his eyes, saying
with a smile: "This is delightful; I'm becoming neurasthenic." After
which he could not save himself from utter exhaustion at the thought
that, next day, he must begin afresh his attempt to find out what Odette
had been doing, must use all his influence to contrive to see her. This
compulsion to an activity without respite, without variety, without
result, was so cruel a scourge that one day, noticing a swelling over
his stomach, he felt an actual joy in the idea that he had, perhaps, a
tumour which would prove fatal, that he need not concern himself with
anything further, that it was his malady which was going to govern his
life, to make a plaything of him, until the not-distant end. If indeed,
at this period, it often happened that, though without admitting it even
to himself, he longed for death, it was in order to escape not so
much from the keenness of his sufferings as from the monotony of his
struggle.

And yet he would have wished to live until the time came when he no
longer loved her, when she would have no reason for lying to him, when
at length he might learn from her whether, on the day when he had gone
to see her in the afternoon, she had or had not been in the arms of
Forcheville. Often for several days on end the suspicion that she was
in love with some one else would distract his mind from the question
of Forcheville, making it almost immaterial to him, like those new
developments of a continuous state of ill-health which seem for a little
time to have delivered us from their predecessors. There were even
days when he was not tormented by any suspicion. He fancied that he was
cured. But next morning, when he awoke, he felt in the same place
the same pain, a sensation which, the day before, he had, as it were,
diluted in the torrent of different impressions. But it had not stirred
from its place. Indeed, it was the s