that he mistook the road to a hermitage, formerly well known to them
both, and again that he could not answer when addressed in Basque,
although he him self had taught her the little she knew of this language.
Besides, since his return, he would never write in her presence, did he
fear that she would notice some difference? She had paid little or no
attention to these trifles; now, pieced together, they assumed an
alarming importance. An appalling terror seized Bertrande: was she to
remain in this uncertainty, or should she seek an explanation which might
prove her destruction? And how discover the truth--by questioning the
guilty man, by noting his confusion, his change of colour, by forcing a
confession from him? But she had lived with him for two years, he was
the father of her child, she could not ruin him without ruining herself,
and, an explanation once sought, she could neither punish him and escape
disgrace, nor pardon him without sharing his guilt. To reproach him with
his conduct and then keep silence would destroy her peace for ever; to
cause a scandal by denouncing him would bring dishonour upon herself and
her child. Night found her involved in these hideous perplexities, too
weak to surmount them; an icy chill came over her, she went to bed, and
awoke in a high fever. For several days she hovered between life and
death, and Martin Guerre bestowed the most tender care upon her. She was
greatly moved thereby, having one of those impressionable minds which
recognise kindness fully as much as injury. When she was a little
recovered and her mental power began to return, she had only a vague
recollection of what had occurred, and thought she had had a frightful
dream. She asked if Pierre Guerre had been to see her, and found he had
not been near the house. This could only be explained by the scene which
had taken place, and she then recollected all the accusation Pierre had
made, her own observations which had confirmed it, all her grief and
trouble. She inquired about the village news. Pierre, evidently, had
kept silence why? Had he seen that his suspicions were unjust, or was he
only seeking further evidence? She sank back into her cruel uncertainty,
and resolved to watch Martin closely, before deciding as to his guilt or
innocence.

How was she to suppose that God had created two faces so exactly alike,
two beings precisely similar, and then sent them together into the world,
and on the same trac