e, all on a sudden she found herself face to
face with the cruel reality. She held herself and Philippe in horror.
She must have been mad, and he had acted most unworthily in lending
himself to her plans. When he at last ventured to come to her, her harsh
expression astonished him. She managed to convey to him her wish to
remain alone, and he showed himself so proud and magnanimous, she asked
herself if it would be possible for her to live apart from him. How
could she for ever repel such a loyal, generous man without showing
herself unjust and cruel?

Her husband approached her. His lips touched her forehead. "Till
to-morrow," he said. But as he touched her he was seized with a mad,
passionate longing. He caught her in his arms in an irresistible
transport. "Oh, if you only knew how much I love you!"

Surprised at first, Claire turned livid.

"Leave me!" she cried in an angry voice.

Philippe drew back. "What!" he said, in a troubled voice. "You repel me
with horror! Do you hate me, then? And why? Ah, that man who forsook you
so cowardly--that man, do you still happen to love him?"

"Ah, have you not perceived that I have been mad?" cried Claire, ceasing
to restrain herself. "I have deserved your anger and contempt, no doubt.
Come, take everything belonging to me except myself! My fortune is
yours. I give it you. Let it be the ransom of my liberty."

Philippe was on the point of revealing the truth, which he had hitherto
hidden with such delicacy and care, but he cast the idea aside. "Do you
really take me for a man who sells himself?" he asked coldly. "I, who
came here but a little while ago, palpitating and trembling to tell my
love! Wasn't I more than mad, more than grotesque? For, after all, I
have your fortune. I'm paid. I have no right to complain."

Philippe burst into a bitter laugh, and falling on the sofa, hid his
face in his hands.

"Monsieur," said Claire haughtily, "let us finish this. Spare me useless
raillery----"

Philippe showed his face, down which tears were streaming. "I am not
railing, madame; I am weeping--mourning my happiness, for ever lost. But
this is enough weakness. You wished to purchase your liberty. I give it
you for nothing. You will realise one day that you have been even more
unjust than cruel, and you may then think of trying to undo what you
have done. But it will be useless. If I saw you on your knees begging my
forgiveness, I should not have a word of pity for you. Adieu,