where she played off her graces amid ravishing
flowers, and rare plants of the costliest luxury. The science of
nothings, the trifles of the day, she carried to excess. Fallen into a
mortifying position through Conti's desertion, Beatrix was determined
to have, at any rate, the fame which unprincipled conduct gives. The
misfortune of the poor young wife, a rich and beautiful Grandlieu,
should be her pedestal.

XX. A SHORT TREATISE ON CERTAINTY: BUT NOT FROM PASCAL'S POINT OF VIEW

When a woman returns to ordinary life after the nursing of her first
child she reappears in the world embellished and charming. This phase
of maternity, while it rejuvenates the women of a certain age, gives to
young women a splendor of freshness, a gay activity, a _brio_ of mere
existence,--if it is permissible to apply to the body a word which Italy
has discovered for the mind. In trying to return to the charming habits
of the honeymoon, Sabine discovered that her husband was not the former
Calyste. Again she observed him, unhappy girl, instead of resting
securely in her happiness. She sought for the fatal perfume, and smelt
it. This time she no longer confided in her friend, nor in the mother
who had so charitably deceived her. She wanted certainty, and Certainty
made no long tarrying. Certainty is never wanting, it is like the sun;
and presently shades are asked for to keep it out. It is, in matters
of the heart, a repetition of the fable of the woodman calling upon
Death,--we soon ask Certainty to leave us blind.

One morning, about two weeks after the first crisis, Sabine received
this terrible letter:--

Guerande.

To Madame la Baronne du Guenic:

My dear Daughter,--Your aunt Zephirine and I are lost in
conjectures about the dressing-table of which you tell us in your
letter. I have written to Calyste about it, and I beg you to
excuse our ignorance. You can never doubt our hearts, I am sure.
We are piling up riches for you here. Thanks to the advice of
Mademoiselle de Pen-Hoel on the management of your property, you
will find yourself within a few years in possession of a
considerable capital without losing any of your income.

Your letter, dear child as dearly loved as if I had borne you in
my bosom and fed you with my milk, surprised me by its brevity,
and above all by your silence about my dearest little Calyste. You
told me nothing of the great Calyste either; but then, I know that
_he_ is