no attention to it; so we sat down to dinner,
and at eight o'clock Julien went out.

"As soon as he had gone, a kind of strange embarrassment immediately
seemed to arise between his wife and me. We had never been alone
together yet, and in spite of our daily increasing intimacy, this
tete-a-tete placed us in a new position. At first I spoke vaguely
of those indifferent matters with which one fills up an embarrassing
silence, but she did not reply, and remained opposite to me with her
head down in an undecided manner, as if she were thinking over some
difficult subject, and as I was at a loss for small talk, I held my
tongue. It is surprising how hard it is at times to find anything to
say.

"And then also I felt something in the air, something I could not
express, one of those mysterious premonitions that warn one of another
person's secret intentions in regard to yourself, whether they be good
or evil.

"That painful silence lasted some time, and then Bertha said to me:

"'Will you kindly put a log on the fire for it is going out.'

"So I opened the box where the wood was kept, which was placed just
where yours is, took out the largest log and put it on top of the
others, which were three parts burned, and then silence again reigned in
the room.

"In a few minutes the log was burning so brightly that it scorched our
faces, and the young woman raised her eyes to mine--eyes that had a
strange look to me.

"'It is too hot now,' she said; 'let us go and sit on the sofa over
there.'

"So we went and sat on the sofa, and then she said suddenly, looking me
full in the face:

"'What would you do if a woman were to tell you that she was in love
with you?'

"'Upon my word,' I replied, very much at a loss for an answer, 'I cannot
foresee such a case; but it would depend very much upon the woman.'

"She gave a hard, nervous, vibrating laugh; one of those false laughs
which seem as if they must break thin glass, and then she added:
'Men are never either venturesome or spiteful.' And, after a moment's
silence, she continued: 'Have you ever been in love, Monsieur Paul?'
I was obliged to acknowledge that I certainly had, and she asked me
to tell her all about it. Whereupon I made up some story or other.
She listened to me attentively, with frequent signs of disapproval and
contempt, and then suddenly she said:

"'No, you understand nothing about the subject. It seems to me that real
love must unsettle the mind, upset