as sacred, as important, as
worthy of credit as the reputation of a woman, and I never heard that the
virtue of the one was more fragile than that of the other."

Monsieur de Lamotte, thunderstruck by such a revelation, could not
contain his impatience and indignation.

"This, then," he said, "is the explanation of an anonymous letter which I
received, and of the injurious suggestions' concerning my wife's honour
which it contained; it was written to give an appearance of probability
to this infamous legend. The whole thing is a disgraceful plot, and no
doubt Monsieur Derues wrote the letter himself."

"I know nothing about it," said Derues unconcernedly, "and the
explanation which you profess to find in it I should rather refer to
something else I am going to mention. I did not know a secret warning
had been sent to you: I now learn it from you, and I understand perfectly
that such a letter, may have been written. But that you have received
such a warning ought surely to be a reason for listening patiently and
not denouncing all I say as imposture."

While saying this Derues mentally constructed the fresh falsehood
necessitated by the interruption, but no variation of countenance
betrayed his thought. He had an air of dignity natural to his position.
He saw that, in spite of clear-headedness and long practice in studying
the most deceptive countenances, the magistrate so far had not scented
any of his falsehoods, and was getting bewildered in the windings of this
long narrative, through which Derues led him as he chose; and he resumed
with confidence--

"You know that I made Monsieur de Lamotte's acquaintance more than a year
ago, and I had reason to believe his friendship as sincere as my own. As
a friend, I could not calmly accept the suspicion which then entered my
mind, nor could I conceal my surprise. Madame de Lamotte saw this, and
understood from my looks that I was not satisfied with the explanation
she wished me to accept. A glance of intelligence passed between her and
her friend, who was still holding Edouard's hand. The day, though cold,
was fine, and she proposed a walk in the park. I offered her my arm, and
the stranger walked in front with Edouard. We had a short conversation,
which has remained indelibly fixed in my memory.

"'Why did you come?' she inquired.

"I did not answer, but looked sternly at her, in order to discompose her.
At length I said--

"'You should have written, mada