hing the catastrophe.

And yet he looked in vain to the advocate for a word or a sign of
encouragement. M. Magloire remained impenetrable: his face remained as
impassive as an iron mask.

At last, with a great effort, Jacques resumed,--

"Yes, this calm frightened me more than a storm would have done. To
win Dionysia's love was too great happiness. I expected a catastrophe,
something terrible. I expected it with such absolute certainty, that I
had actually made up my mind to confess every thing to M. de Chandore.
You know him, Magloire. The old gentleman is the purest and brightest
type of honor itself. I could intrust my secrets to him with as perfect
safety as I formerly intrusted Genevieve's name to the night winds.

"Alas! why did I hesitate? why did I delay?

"One word might have saved me; and I should not be here, charged with
an atrocious crime, innocent, and yet condemned to see how you doubt the
truth of my words.

"But fate was against me.

"After having for a week postponed my confession every day to the next,
one evening, after Dionysia and I had been talking of presentiments, I
said to myself, 'To-morrow it shall be done.'

"The next morning, I went to Boiscoran much earlier than usual, and on
foot, because I wanted to give some orders to a dozen workmen whom I
employed in my vineyards. I took a short cut through the fields. Alas!
not a single detail has escaped from my memory. When I had given my
orders, I returned to the high road, and there met the priest from
Brechy, who is a friend of mine.

"'You must,' he said, 'keep me company for a little distance. As you
are on your way to Sauveterre, it will not delay you much to take the
cross-road which passes by Valpinson and the forest of Rochepommier.'

"On what trifles our fate depends!

"I accompanied the priest, and only left him at the point where the
high-road and the cross-road intersect. As soon as I was alone, I
hastened on; and I was almost through the wood, when, all of a sudden,
some twenty yards before me, I saw the Countess Claudieuse coming
towards me. In spite of my emotion, I kept on my way, determined to bow
to her, but to pass her without speaking. I did so, and had gone on a
little distance, when I heard her call me,--

"'Jacques!'

"I stopped; or, rather, I was nailed to the spot by that voice which for
a long time had held such entire control over my heart. She came up to
me, looking even more excited than I was. Her lips