sweet things of the spirit you have
so often said to me; do not blame me; comfort me, I am so unhappy. I
have an odious suspicion on my conscience, and you have nothing in your
heart to sear it. My beloved, tell me, could I stay there beside you?
Could two heads united as ours have been lie on the same pillow when
one was suffering and the other tranquil? What are you thinking of?"
he cried abruptly, observing that Clemence was anxious, confused, and
seemed unable to restrain her tears.

"I am thinking of my mother," she answered, in a grave voice. "You
will never know, Jules, what I suffer in remembering my mother's dying
farewell, said in a voice sweeter than all music, and in feeling the
solemn touch of her icy hand at a moment when you overwhelm me with
those assurances of your precious love."

She raised her husband, strained him to her with a nervous force greater
than that of men, and kissed his hair, covering it with tears.

"Ah! I would be hacked in pieces for you! Tell me that I make you happy;
that I am to you the most beautiful of women--a thousand women to you.
Oh! you are loved as no other man ever was or will be. I don't know the
meaning of those words 'duty,' 'virtue.' Jules, I love you for yourself;
I am happy in loving you; I shall love you more and more to my dying
day. I have pride in my love; I feel it is my destiny to have one sole
emotion in my life. What I shall tell you now is dreadful, I know--but
I am glad to have no child; I do not wish for any. I feel I am more wife
than mother. Well, then, can you fear? Listen to me, my own beloved,
promise to forget, not this hour of mingled tenderness and doubt, but
the words of that madman. Jules, you _must_. Promise me not to see him,
not to go to him. I have a deep conviction that if you set one foot in
that maze we shall both roll down a precipice where I shall perish--but
with your name upon my lips, your heart in my heart. Why hold me so high
in that heart and yet so low in reality? What! you who give credit to so
many as to money, can you not give me the charity of faith? And on the
first occasion in our lives when you might prove to me your boundless
trust, do you cast me from my throne in your heart? Between a madman
and me, it is the madman whom you choose to believe? oh, Jules!" She
stopped, threw back the hair that fell about her brow and neck, and
then, in a heart-rending tone, she added: "I have said too much; one
word should suffice. If y