us; it flows out, springs forth, is
communicated as if by contagion, transmitted by a look, a tone of voice,
a gesture, impressing our will on others. The old soldier started on
hearing this single word, this first, terrible "monsieur!" But still it
was at once a reproach and a pardon, a hope and a despair, a question
and an answer. This word included them all; none but an actress could
have thrown so much eloquence, so many feelings into a single word.
Truth is less complete in its utterance; it does not put everything on
the outside; it allows us to see what is within. The Colonel was filled
with remorse for his suspicions, his demands, and his anger; he looked
down not to betray his agitation.

"Monsieur," repeated she, after an imperceptible pause, "I knew you at
once."

"Rosine," said the old soldier, "those words contain the only balm that
can help me to forget my misfortunes."

Two large tears rolled hot on to his wife's hands, which he pressed to
show his paternal affection.

"Monsieur," she went on, "could you not have guessed what it cost me
to appear before a stranger in a position so false as mine now is? If
I have to blush for it, at least let it be in the privacy of my family.
Ought not such a secret to remain buried in our hearts? You will forgive
me, I hope, for my apparent indifference to the woes of a Chabert in
whose existence I could not possibly believe. I received your letters,"
she hastily added, seeing in his face the objection it expressed, "but
they did not reach me till thirteen months after the battle of Eylau.
They were opened, dirty, the writing was unrecognizable; and after
obtaining Napoleon's signature to my second marriage contract, I could
not help believing that some clever swindler wanted to make a fool of
me. Therefore, to avoid disturbing Monsieur Ferraud's peace of mind,
and disturbing family ties, I was obliged to take precautions against a
pretended Chabert. Was I not right, I ask you?"

"Yes, you were right. It was I who was the idiot, the owl, the dolt, not
to have calculated better what the consequences of such a position might
be.--But where are we going?" he asked, seeing that they had reached the
barrier of La Chapelle.

"To my country house near Groslay, in the valley of Montmorency. There,
monsieur, we will consider the steps to be taken. I know my duties.
Though I am yours by right, I am no longer yours in fact. Can you wish
that we should become the talk of Pari