y
for ever. She will be to me the tenderest of sisters! Well, is not my
position still most enviable? To the cold and constrained demeanour
which existed between us will succeed affectionate and gentle
intercourse, whilst she might have treated me always with icy disdain of
which it was impossible that I could complain. So, then, I will console
myself by the enjoyment of what she offers to me. Shall I not be too
happy then?--too happy? Ah, how weak I am! How cowardly! Is she not my
wife, after all? Is she not mine and mine only? Does not the law
recognise my right over her? My wife refuses, but is not the right on my
side?" he interrupted himself, with a burst of sardonic laughter.

"Oh, yes,--be violent, eh? What, another infamy? But what can I do? For
I love her yet,--love her to madness! I love her and her only! I want
but her,--her love, and not the lukewarm regard of a sister. Ah, at last
she must have pity; she is so kind, and she will see how unhappy I am!
But no, no! Never! Mine is a case of estrangement which a woman never
can surmount. Disgust,--yes, disgust,--I cannot but see it,--disgust! I
must convince myself that it is my horrid infirmity that frightens her,
and always must,--always must!" exclaimed M. d'Harville, in his fearful
excitement.

After a moment of gloomy silence, he continued:

"This anonymous attack, which accused the prince and my wife, comes from
the hand of an enemy; and yet, but an hour ago, before I saw through it,
I suspected him. Him!--to believe him capable of such base treachery!
And my wife, too, I included in the same suspicion! Ah, jealousy is
incurable! And yet I must not abuse myself. If the prince, who loves me
as his best and dearest friend, has made Clemence promise to occupy her
mind and heart in charitable works, if he promises her his advice, his
support, it is because she requires advice, needs support. And, indeed,
lovely and young, and surrounded as she is, and without that love in her
heart which protects and even almost excuses her wrongs through mine,
which are so atrocious, must she not fall? Another torturing thought!
What I have suffered when I thought her guilty,--fallen,--Heaven knows
what agony! But, no; the fear is vain! Clemence has sworn never to fail
in her duties, and she will keep her promise,--strictly keep it! But at
what a price! At what a price! But now, when she turned towards me with
affectionate language, what agony did I feel at the sight of her