. His jealousy was too
importunate, and he resolved to make any effort to keep her for himself
alone. He knew she had love for him, but he knew that love would not
necessarily, or even probably, keep her entirely faithful to him. She
thought too little of passing intrigues. To her they seemed trifles,
meaningless, unimportant. She told him so, when he spoke his jealousy.
She said, 'I love you. I do not love these other men. They are in my
life for a moment only.'

"'And that moment plunges me into hell!' he said.

"He told her he could not bear it, that it was impossible, that she must
belong to him entirely and solely. He asked her to marry him. She was
surprised, touched. She understood what a sacrifice such a marriage
would be to a man in his position. He was a man of good birth. His
request, his vehement insistence on it, made her understand his love as
she had not understood it before. Yet she hesitated. For so long had
she been accustomed to a life of freedom, of changing _amours_, that she
hesitated to put her neck under the yoke of matrimony. She understood
thoroughly his character and his aim in marrying her. She knew that as
his wife she must bid an eternal farewell to the life she had known. And
it was a life that had become a habit to her, a life that she was fond
of. For she was enormously vain, and she was a--she was a very physical
woman, subject to physical caprices. There are things that I pass over,
Domini, which would explain still more her hesitation. He knew what
caused it, and again he was tortured. But he persisted. And at last he
overcame. She consented to marry him. They were engaged. Domini, I
need not tell you much more, only this fact--which had driven him from
France, destroyed his happiness, brought him to the monastery. Shortly
before the marriage was to take place he discovered that, while they
were engaged, she had yielded to the desires of an old admirer who had
come to bid her farewell and to wish her joy in her new life. He was
tempted, he said, to kill her. But he governed himself and left her.
He travelled. He came to Tunis. He came to La Trappe. He saw the peace
there. He thought, 'Can I seize it? Can it do something for me?' He saw
me. He thought, 'I shall not be quite alone. This monk--he has lived
always in peace, he has never known the torture of women. Might not
intercourse with him help me?'

"Such was his history, such was the history poured, with infinite detail
that I h