her business to pay
the smallest attention to the slight noise made by her husband. Nor did
the old man notice that his wife was in the room over him.

"Well, Monsieur Delbecq, has he signed?" the Countess asked her
secretary, whom she saw alone on the road beyond the hedge of a haha.

"No, madame. I do not even know what has become of our man. The old
horse reared."

"Then we shall be obliged to put him into Charenton," said she, "since
we have got him."

The Colonel, who recovered the elasticity of youth to leap the haha,
in the twinkling of an eye was standing in front of Delbecq, on whom he
bestowed the two finest slaps that ever a scoundrel's cheeks received.

"And you may add that old horses can kick!" said he.

His rage spent, the Colonel no longer felt vigorous enough to leap the
ditch. He had seen the truth in all its nakedness. The Countess' speech
and Delbecq's reply had revealed the conspiracy of which he was to be
the victim. The care taken of him was but a bait to entrap him in a
snare. That speech was like a drop of subtle poison, bringing on in the
old soldier a return of all his sufferings, physical and moral. He came
back to the summer-house through the park gate, walking slowly like a
broken man.

Then for him there was to be neither peace nor truce. From this moment
he must begin the odious warfare with this woman of which Derville had
spoken, enter on a life of litigation, feed on gall, drink every morning
of the cup of bitterness. And then--fearful thought!--where was he to
find the money needful to pay the cost of the first proceedings? He felt
such disgust of life, that if there had been any water at hand he would
have thrown himself into it; that if he had had a pistol, he would
have blown out his brains. Then he relapsed into the indecision of
mind which, since his conversation with Derville at the dairyman's had
changed his character.

At last, having reached the kiosque, he went up to the gazebo, where
little rose-windows afforded a view over each lovely landscape of the
valley, and where he found his wife seated on a chair. The Countess was
gazing at the distance, and preserved a calm countenance, showing that
impenetrable face which women can assume when resolved to do their
worst. She wiped her eyes as if she had been weeping, and played
absently with the pink ribbons of her sash. Nevertheless, in spite of
her apparent assurance, she could not help shuddering slightly when she
s