It was three in the morning when Madame Jules was awakened by a
presentiment which struck her heart as she slept. She had a sense both
physical and moral of her husband's absence. She did not feel the
arm Jules passed beneath her head,--that arm in which she had slept,
peacefully and happy, for five years; an arm she had never wearied. A
voice said to her, "Jules suffers, Jules is weeping." She raised her
head, and then sat up; felt that her husband's place was cold, and saw
him sitting before the fire, his feet on the fender, his head resting
against the back of an arm-chair. Tears were on his cheeks. The poor
woman threw herself hastily from her bed and sprang at a bound to her
husband's knees.

"Jules! what is it? Are you ill? Speak, tell me! Speak to me, if you
love me!" and she poured out a hundred words expressing the deepest
tenderness.

Jules knelt at her feet, kissed her hands and knees, and answered with
fresh tears:--

"Dear Clemence, I am most unhappy! It is not loving to distrust the
one we love. I adore you and suspect you. The words that man said to me
to-night have struck to my heart; they stay there in spite of myself,
and confound me. There is some mystery here. In short, and I blush to
say it, your explanations do not satisfy me. My reason casts gleams
into my soul which my love rejects. It is an awful combat. Could I
stay there, holding your head, and suspecting thoughts within it to me
unknown? Oh! I believe in you, I believe in you!" he cried, seeing her
smile sadly and open her mouth as if to speak. "Say nothing; do not
reproach me. Besides, could you say anything I have not said myself for
the last three hours? Yes, for three hours, I have been here, watching
you as you slept, so beautiful! admiring that pure, peaceful brow. Yes,
yes! you have always told me your thoughts, have you not? I alone am in
that soul. While I look at you, while my eyes can plunge into yours I
see all plainly. Your life is as pure as your glance is clear. No, there
is no secret behind those transparent eyes." He rose and kissed their
lids. "Let me avow to you, dearest soul," he said, "that for the last
five years each day has increased my happiness, through the knowledge
that you are all mine, and that no natural affection even can take any
of your love. Having no sister, no father, no mother, no companion, I
am neither above nor below any living being in your heart; I am alone
there. Clemence, repeat to me those