down her cheeks, while two
more were already formed on the eyelids.

He murmured: "Do not cry, Clo; do not cry, I beg of you. You rend my
very heart."

Then she made an effort, a strong effort, to be proud and dignified, and
asked, in the quivering tone of a woman about to burst into sobs: "Who
is it?"

He hesitated a moment, and then understanding that he must, said:

"Madeleine Forestier."

Madame de Marelle shuddered all over, and remained silent, so deep in
thought that she seemed to have forgotten that he was at her feet. And
two transparent drops kept continually forming in her eyes, falling and
forming again.

She rose. Duroy guessed that she was going away without saying a word,
without reproach or forgiveness, and he felt hurt and humiliated to the
bottom of his soul. Wishing to stay her, he threw his arms about the
skirt of her dress, clasping through the stuff her rounded legs, which
he felt stiffen in resistance. He implored her, saying: "I beg of you,
do not go away like that."

Then she looked down on him from above with that moistened and
despairing eye, at once so charming and so sad, which shows all the
grief of a woman's heart, and gasped out: "I--I have nothing to say. I
have nothing to do with it. You--you are right. You--you have chosen
well."

And, freeing herself by a backward movement, she left the room without
his trying to detain her further.

Left to himself, he rose as bewildered as if he had received a blow on
the head. Then, making up his mind, he muttered: "Well, so much the
worse or the better. It is over, and without a scene; I prefer that,"
and relieved from an immense weight, suddenly feeling himself free,
delivered, at ease as to his future life, he began to spar at the wall,
hitting out with his fists in a kind of intoxication of strength and
triumph, as if he had been fighting Fate.

When Madame Forestier asked: "Have you told Madame de Marelle?" he
quietly answered, "Yes."

She scanned him closely with her bright eyes, saying: "And did it not
cause her any emotion?"

"No, not at all. She thought it, on the contrary, a very good idea."

The news was soon known. Some were astonished, others asserted that they
had foreseen it; others, again, smiled, and let it be understood that
they were not surprised.

The young man who now signed his descriptive articles D. de Cantel, his
"Echoes" Duroy, and the political articles which he was beginning to
write from time to ti