tion was by no means uncalled for; instead
of spending only the autumn at Ganges, the marquise was obliged, in
consequence of letters from her husband, to spend the winter there.
During the whole of this time the abbe and the chevalier seemed to have
completely forgotten their original designs upon her, and had again
resumed the conduct of respectful, attentive brothers. But with all
this, M. de Ganges remained estranged, and the marquise, who had not
ceased to love him, though she began to lose her fear, did not lose her
grief.

One day the abbe entered her room suddenly enough to surprise her before
she had time to dry her tears; the secret being thus half surprised, he
easily obtained a knowledge of the whole. The marquise owned to him that
happiness in this world was impossible for her so long as her husband
led this separate and hostile life. The abbe tried to console her; but
amid his consolations he told her that the grief which she was suffering
had its source in herself; that her husband was naturally wounded by her
distrust of him--a distrust of which the will, executed by her, was a
proof, all the more humiliating because public, and that, while that
will existed, she could expect no advances towards reconciliation from
her husband. For that time the conversation ended there.

Some days later, the abbe came into the marquise's room with a letter
which he had just received from his brother. This letter, supposed
confidential, was filled with tender complaints of his wife's conduct
towards him, and showed, through every sentence, a depth of affection
which only wrongs as serious as those from which the marquis considered
himself to be feeling could counterbalance. The marquise was, at first,
very much touched by this letter; but having soon reflected that just
sufficient time had elapsed since the explanation between herself and
the abbe for the marquis to be informed of it, she awaited further and
stronger proofs before changing her mind.

From day to day, however, the abbe, under the pretext of reconciling the
husband and wife, became more pressing upon the matter of the will, and
the marquise, to whom this insistence seemed rather alarming, began to
experience some of her former fears. Finally, the abbe pressed her so
hard as to make her reflect that since, after the precautions which she
had taken at Avignon, a revocation could have no result, it would be
better to seem to yield rather than irritate this