o you know what I just
learned downstairs from the concierge, who glanced at me out of the
corner of his eye, making sport of me? Well, Frantz Risler has gone! He
left the house a short time ago, and has left Paris perhaps ere this,
without so much as coming to shake my hand, to thank me for the welcome
he has received here. What do you think of that? For he didn't say
good-by to you two either, did he? And yet, only a month ago, he was
always in our rooms, without any remonstrance from us."

Mamma Delobelle uttered an exclamation of genuine surprise and grief.
Desiree, on the contrary, did not say a word or make a motion. She was
always the same little iceberg.

Oh! wretched mother, turn your eyes upon your daughter. See that
transparent pallor, those tearless eyes which gleam unwaveringly, as if
their thoughts and their gaze were concentrated on some object visible
to them alone. Cause that poor suffering heart to open itself to you.
Question your child. Make her speak, above all things make her weep, to
rid her of the burden that is stifling her, so that her tear-dimmed
eyes can no longer distinguish in space that horrible unknown thing upon
which they are fixed in desperation now.

For nearly a month past, ever since the day when Sidonie came and took
Frantz away in her coupe, Desiree had known that she was no longer
loved, and she knew her rival's name. She bore them no ill-will, she
pitied them rather. But, why had he returned? Why had he so heedlessly
given her false hopes? How many tears had she devoured in silence since
those hours! How many tales of woe had she told her little birds! For
once more it was work that had sustained her, desperate, incessant work,
which, by its regularity and monotony, by the constant recurrence of
the same duties and the same motions, served as a balance-wheel to her
thoughts.

Lately Frantz was not altogether lost to her. Although he came but
rarely to see her, she knew that he was there, she could hear him go in
and out, pace, the floor with restless step, and sometimes, through the
half-open door, see his loved shadow hurry across the landing. He did
not seem happy. Indeed, what happiness could be in store for him? He
loved his brother's wife. And at the thought that Frantz was not happy,
the fond creature almost forgot her own sorrow to think only of the
sorrow of the man she loved.

She was well aware that it was impossible that he could ever love her
again. But she tho