re no cloud, and the birth
of a daughter, drawing still closer the links which united them, seemed
a new pledge of felicity. Alas! the horizon which appeared so bright and
clear to the poor woman was doomed soon again to be overcast.

The very evening of the christening party, a band of musicians and
jugglers happened to pass through the village, and the inhabitants
showed themselves liberal. Pierre asked questions, and found that the
leader of the band was a Spaniard. He invited the man to his own house,
and remained closeted with him for nearly an hour, dismissing him at
length with a refilled purse. Two days later the old man announced to
the family that he was going to Picardy to see a former partner on a
matter of business, and he departed accordingly, saying he should return
before long.

The day on which Bertrande again saw her uncle was, indeed, a terrible
one. She was sitting by the cradle of the lately-born infant, watching
for its awakening, when the door opened, and Pierre Guerre strode in.
Bertrande drew back with an instinct of terror as soon as she saw him,
for his expression was at once wicked and joyful--an expression of
gratified hate, of mingled rage and triumph, and his smile was terrible
to behold. She did not venture to speak, but motioned him to a seat. He
came straight up to her, and raising his head, said loudly--

"Kneel down at once, madame--kneel down, and ask pardon from Almighty
God!"

"Are you mad, Pierre?" she replied, gazing at him in astonishment.

"You, at least, ought to know that I am not."

"Pray for forgiveness--I--! and what for, in Heaven's name?"

"For the crime in which you are an accomplice."

"Please explain yourself."

"Oh!" said Pierre, with bitter irony, "a woman always thinks herself
innocent as long as her sin is hidden; she thinks the truth will never
be known, and her conscience goes quietly to sleep, forgetting her
faults. Here is a woman who thought her sins nicely concealed; chance
favoured her: an absent husband, probably no more; another man so
exactly like him in height, face, and manner that everyone else is
deceived! Is it strange that a weak, sensitive woman, wearied of
widowhood, should willingly allow herself to be imposed on?"

Bertrande listened without understanding; she tried to interrupt, but
Pierre went on--

"It was easy to accept this stranger without having to blush for it,
easy to give him the name and the rights of a husband! She coul