utiful mouth, may arouse some people to jealous rage.

Mercanson appeared to be astonished. I was somewhat astonished myself;
but who knows his own mind?

At his first words I saw that the priest understood what I wanted to
know and had decided not to satisfy me.

"How does it happen that you have known Madame Pierson so long and so
intimately (I think so, at least) and have not met Monsieur de Dalens?
But, doubtless, you have some reason unknown to me for inquiring about
him to-day. All I can say is that as far as I know, he is an honest
man, kind and charitable; he was, like you, very intimate with Madame
Pierson; he is fond of hunting and entertains handsomely. He and Madame
Pierson were accustomed to devote much of their time to music. He
punctually attended to his works of charity and, when--in the country,
accompanied that lady on her rounds, just as you do. His family enjoys
an excellent reputation at Paris; I used to find him with Madame Pierson
whenever I called; his manners were excellent. As for the rest, I speak
truly and frankly, as becomes me when it concerns persons of his merit.
I believe that he only comes here for the chase; he was a friend of her
husband; he is said to be rich and very generous; but I know nothing
about it except that--"

With what tortured phrases was this dull tormentor teasing me. I was
ashamed to listen to him, yet not daring to ask a single question or
interrupt his vile insinuations. I was alone on the promenade; the
poisoned arrow of suspicion had entered my heart. I did not know whether
I felt more of anger or of sorrow. The confidence with which I had
abandoned myself to my love for Brigitte had been so sweet and so
natural that I could not bring myself to believe that so much happiness
had been built upon an illusion. That sentiment of credulity which had
attracted me to her seemed a proof that she was worthy. Was it possible
that these four months of happiness were but a dream?

But after all, I thought, that woman has yielded too easily. Was there
not deception in that pretended anxiety to have me leave the country? Is
she not just like all the rest? Yes, that is the way they all do; they
attempt to escape in order to experience the happiness of being pursued:
it is the feminine instinct. Was it not she who confessed her love by
her own act, at the very moment I had decided that she would never be
mine? Did she not accept my arm the first day I met her? If Dalens has