ll self-respect, and discovered that by annoying
Marguerite she could get from me whatever she wanted, constantly stirred
up my resentment against her, and insulted her whenever she found an
opportunity, with the cowardly persistence of a woman licensed by the
authority of a man.

At last Marguerite gave up going to balls or theatres, for fear of
meeting Olympe and me. Then direct impertinences gave way to anonymous
letters, and there was not a shameful thing which I did not encourage
my mistress to relate and which I did not myself relate in reference to
Marguerite.

To reach such a point I must have been literally mad. I was like a man
drunk upon bad wine, who falls into one of those nervous exaltations in
which the hand is capable of committing a crime without the head knowing
anything about it. In the midst of it all I endured a martyrdom. The
not disdainful calm, the not contemptuous dignity with which Marguerite
responded to all my attacks, and which raised her above me in my own
eyes, enraged me still more against her.

One evening Olympe had gone somewhere or other, and had met Marguerite,
who for once had not spared the foolish creature, so that she had had to
retire in confusion. Olympe returned in a fury, and Marguerite fainted
and had to be carried out. Olympe related to me what had happened,
declared that Marguerite, seeing her alone, had revenged herself upon
her because she was my mistress, and that I must write and tell her to
respect the woman whom I loved, whether I was present or absent.

I need not tell you that I consented, and that I put into the letter
which I sent to her address the same day, everything bitter, shameful,
and cruel that I could think of.

This time the blow was more than the unhappy creature could endure
without replying. I felt sure that an answer would come, and I resolved
not to go out all day. About two there was a ring, and Prudence entered.

I tried to assume an indifferent air as I asked her what had brought
her; but that day Mme. Duvernoy was not in a laughing humour, and in a
really moved voice she said to me that since my return, that is to say
for about three weeks, I had left no occasion untried which could give
pain to Marguerite, that she was completely upset by it, and that the
scene of last night and my angry letter of the morning had forced her to
take to her bed. In short, without making any reproach, Marguerite
sent to ask me for a little pity, since she h