s? We need not inform the public
of a situation, which for me has its ridiculous side, and let us
preserve our dignity. You still love me," she said, with a sad, sweet
gaze at the Colonel, "but have not I been authorized to form other ties?
In so strange a position, a secret voice bids me trust to your kindness,
which is so well known to me. Can I be wrong in taking you as the sole
arbiter of my fate? Be at once judge and party to the suit. I trust in
your noble character; you will be generous enough to forgive me for the
consequences of faults committed in innocence. I may then confess to
you: I love M. Ferraud. I believed that I had a right to love him. I
do not blush to make this confession to you; even if it offends you, it
does not disgrace us. I cannot conceal the facts. When fate made me a
widow, I was not a mother."

The Colonel with a wave of his hand bid his wife be silent, and for a
mile and a half they sat without speaking a single word. Chabert could
fancy he saw the two little ones before him.

"Rosine."

"Monsieur?"

"The dead are very wrong to come to life again."

"Oh, monsieur, no, no! Do not think me ungrateful. Only, you find me a
lover, a mother, while you left me merely a wife. Though it is no longer
in my power to love, I know how much I owe you, and I can still offer
you all the affection of a daughter."

"Rosine," said the old man in a softened tone, "I no longer feel any
resentment against you. We will forget anything," he added, with one of
those smiles which always reflect a noble soul; "I have not so little
delicacy as to demand the mockery of love from a wife who no longer
loves me."

The Countess gave him a flashing look full of such deep gratitude that
poor Chabert would have been glad to sink again into his grave at Eylau.
Some men have a soul strong enough for such self-devotion, of which the
whole reward consists in the assurance that they have made the person
they love happy.

"My dear friend, we will talk all this over later when our hearts have
rested," said the Countess.

The conversation turned to other subjects, for it was impossible to
dwell very long on this one. Though the couple came back again and
again to their singular position, either by some allusion or of serious
purpose, they had a delightful drive, recalling the events of their
former life together and the times of the Empire. The Countess knew how
to lend peculiar charm to her reminiscences, and gave the