... No, God would not send me so terrible a
trial. What proof can you show of the truth of your words?"

"The witnesses I have mentioned."

"Nothing more?"

"No, not as yet."

"Fine proofs indeed! The story of a vagabond who flattered your hatred
in hope of a reward, the gossip of a distant village, the recollections
of ten years back, and finally, your own word, the word of a man who
seeks only revenge, the word of a man who swore to make Martin pay dearly
for the results of his own avarice, a man of furious passions such as
yours! No, Pierre, no, I do not believe you, and I never will!"

"Other people may perhaps be less incredulous, and if I accuse him
publicly----"

"Then I shall contradict you publicly!" And coming quickly forward, her
eyes shining with virtuous anger--

"Leave this house, go," she said; "it is you yourself who are the
impostor--go!"

"I shall yet know how to convince everyone, and will make you acknowledge
it," cried the furious old man.

He went out, and Bertrande sank exhausted into a chair. All the strength
which had supported her against Pierre vanished as soon as she was alone,
and in spite of her resistance to suspicion, the terrible light of doubt
penetrated her heart, and extinguished the pure torch of trustfulness
which had guided her hitherto--a doubt, alas! which attacked at once her
honour and her love, for she loved with all a woman's tender affection.
Just as actual poison gradually penetrates and circulates through the
whole system, corrupting the blood and affecting the very sources of life
until it causes the destruction of the whole body, so does that mental
poison, suspicion, extend its ravages in the soul which has received it.
Bertrande remembered with terror her first feelings at the sight of the
returned Martin Guerre, her involuntary repugnance, her astonishment at
not feeling more in touch with the husband whom she had so sincerely
regretted. She remembered also, as if she saw it for the first time,
that Martin, formerly quick, lively, and hasty tempered, now seemed
thoughtful, and fully master of himself.

This change of character she had supposed due to the natural development
of age, she now trembled at the idea of another possible cause. Some
other little details began to occur to her mind--the forgetfulness or
abstraction of her husband as to a few insignificant things; thus it
sometimes happened that he did not answer to his name of Martin, also