belief that she was a
pure and sainted woman; he resigned himself; he talked of Platonic love,
did this artillery officer!

When Mme de Langeais had played with religion sufficiently to suit her
own purposes, she played with it again for Armand's benefit. She wanted
to bring him back to a Christian frame of mind; she brought out her
edition of _Le Genie du Christianisme_, adapted for the use of military
men. Montriveau chafed; his yoke was heavy. Oh! at that, possessed by
the spirit of contradiction, she dinned religion into his ears, to see
whether God might not rid her of this suitor, for the man's persistence
was beginning to frighten her. And in any case she was glad to prolong
any quarrel, if it bade fair to keep the dispute on moral grounds for
an indefinite period; the material struggle which followed it was more
dangerous.

But if the time of her opposition on the ground of the marriage law
might be said to be the _epoque civile_ of this sentimental warfare, the
ensuing phase which might be taken to constitute the _epoque religieuse_
had also its crisis and consequent decline of severity.

Armand happening to come in very early one evening, found M. l'Abbe
Gondrand, the Duchess's spiritual director, established in an armchair
by the fireside, looking as a spiritual director might be expected to
look while digesting his dinner and the charming sins of his penitent.
In the ecclesiastic's bearing there was a stateliness befitting a
dignitary of the Church; and the episcopal violet hue already appeared
in his dress. At sight of his fresh, well-preserved complexion, smooth
forehead, and ascetic's mouth, Montriveau's countenance grew uncommonly
dark; he said not a word under the malicious scrutiny of the other's
gaze, and greeted neither the lady nor the priest. The lover apart,
Montriveau was not wanting in tact; so a few glances exchanged with the
bishop-designate told him that here was the real forger of the Duchess's
armory of scruples.

That an ambitious abbe should control the happiness of a man of
Montriveau's temper, and by underhand ways! The thought burst in a
furious tide over his face, clenched his fists, and set him chafing and
pacing to and fro; but when he came back to his place intending to make
a scene, a single look from the Duchess was enough. He was quiet.

Any other woman would have been put out by her lover's gloomy silence;
it was quite otherwise with Mme de Langeais. She continued her
co