第26章

"Itwasahardstruggleforsomeyears，monsieur.Businessdidnotprosper，andwecouldnotaffordmanycountryexcursions，and，besides，wehadgotoutofthewayofthem.Onehasotherthingsinone’shead，andthinksmoreofthecashboxthanofprettyspeeches，whenoneisinbusiness.Weweregrowingoldbydegreeswithoutperceivingit，likequietpeoplewhodonotthinkmuchaboutlove.Onedoesnotregretanythingaslongasonedoesnotnoticewhatonehaslost.

"Andthen，monsieur，businessbecamebetter，andweweretranquilastothefuture！Then，yousee，Idonotexactlyknowwhatwentoninmymind，no，Ireallydonotknow，butIbegantodreamlikealittleboarding—schoolgirl.Thesightofthelittlecartsfullofflowerswhicharedrawnaboutthestreetsmademecry;thesmellofvioletssoughtmeoutinmyeasy—chair，behindmycashbox，andmademyheartbeat！ThenIwouldgetupandgooutonthedoorsteptolookattheblueskybetweentheroofs.Whenonelooksupattheskyfromthestreet，itlookslikeariverwhichisdescendingonParis，windingasitflows，andtheswallowspasstoandfroinitlikefish.Theseideasareverystupidatmyage！Buthowcanonehelpit，monsieur，whenonehasworkedallone’slife？Amomentcomesinwhichoneperceivesthatonecouldhavedonesomethingelse，andthatoneregrets，oh！yes，onefeelsintenseregret！Justthink，fortwentyyearsImighthavegoneandhadkissesinthewoods，likeotherwomen.Iusedtothinkhowdelightfulitwouldbetolieunderthetreesandbeinlovewithsomeone！AndI

thoughtofiteverydayandeverynight！Idreamedofthemoonlightonthewater，untilIfeltinclinedtodrownmyself.

"IdidnotventuretospeaktoMonsieurBeaurainaboutthisatfirst.

Iknewthathewouldmakefunofme，andsendmebacktosellmyneedlesandcotton！Andthen，tospeakthetruth，MonsieurBeaurainneversaidmuchtome，butwhenIlookedintheglass，IalsounderstoodquitewellthatInolongerappealedtoanyone！

"Well，Imadeupmymind，andIproposedtohimanexcursionintothecountry，totheplacewherewehadfirstbecomeacquainted.Heagreedwithoutmistrustinganything，andwearrivedherethismorning，aboutnineo’clock.

"IfeltquiteyoungagainwhenIgotamongthewheat，forawoman’sheartnevergrowsold！Andreally，Inolongersawmyhusbandasheisatpresent，butjustashewasformerly！ThatIwillsweartoyou，monsieur.AstrueasIamstandinghereIwascrazy.Ibegantokisshim，andhewasmoresurprisedthanifIhadtriedtomurderhim.

Hekeptsayingtome：’Why，youmustbemad！Youaremadthismorning！

Whatisthematterwithyou？’Ididnotlistentohim，Ionlylistenedtomyownheart，andImadehimcomeintothewoodwithme.Thatisall.

Ihavespokenthetruth，MonsieurleMaire，thewholetruth."

Themayorwasasensibleman.Herosefromhischair，smiled，andsaid：

"Goinpeace，madame，andwhenyouagainvisitourforests，bemorediscreet."

MARTINE

ItcametohimoneSundayaftermass.Hewaswalkinghomefromchurchalongtheby—roadthatledtohishousewhenhesawaheadofhimMartine，whowasalsogoinghome.

Herfatherwalkedbesidehisdaughterwiththeimportantgaitofarichfarmer.Discardingthesmock，heworeashortcoatofgrayclothandonhisheadaround—toppedhatwithwidebrim.

She，lacedupinacorsetwhichsheworeonlyonceaweek，walkedalongerect，withhersqueezed—inwaist，herbroadshouldersandprominenthips，swingingherselfalittle.Sheworeahattrimmedwithflowers，madebyamillineratYvetot，anddisplayedthebackofherfull，round，suppleneck，reddenedbythesunandair，onwhichflutteredlittlestraylocksofhair.

Benoistsawonlyherback;butheknewwellthefaceheloved，without，however，havingevernoticeditmorecloselythanhedidnow.

Suddenlyhesaid："Nomd’unnom，sheisafinegirl，allthesame，thatMartine."Hewatchedherasshewalked，admiringherhastily，feelingadesiretakingpossessionofhim.Hedidnotlongtoseeherfaceagain，no.Hekeptgazingatherfigure，repeatingtohimself："Nomd’unnom，sheisafinegirl."

Martineturnedtotherighttoenter"LaMartiniere，"thefarmofherfather，JeanMartin，andshecastaglancebehindherassheturnedround.ShesawBenoist，wholookedtoherverycomical.Shecalledout：

"Good—morning，Benoist."Hereplied："Good—morning，Martine;good—

morning，maitMartin，"andwentonhisway.

Whenhereachedhomethesoupwasonthetable.Hesatdownoppositehismotherbesidethefarmhandandthehiredman，whilethemaidservantwenttodrawsomecider.

Heateafewspoonfuls，thenpushedawayhisplate.Hismothersaid：

"Don’tyoufeelwell？"

"No.IfeelasifIhadsomepapinmystomachandthattakesawaymyappetite."

Hewatchedtheotherseating，ashecuthimselfapieceofbreadfromtimetotimeandcarrieditlazilytohismouth，masticatingitslowly.

HethoughtofMartine."Sheisafinegirl，allthesame."Andtothinkthathehadnotnoticeditbefore，andthatitcametohim，justlikethat，allatonce，andwithsuchforcethathecouldnoteat.

Hedidnottouchthestew.Hismothersaid：

"Come，Benoist，tryandeatalittle;itisloinofmutton，itwilldoyougood.Whenonehasnoappetite，theyshouldforcethemselvestoeat."

Heswallowedafewmorsels，then，pushingawayhisplate，said：

"No.Ican’tgothat，positively."

Whentheyrosefromtablehewalkedroundthefarm，tellingthefarmhandhemightgohomeandthathewoulddriveuptheanimalsashepassedbythem.

Thecountrywasdeserted，asitwasthedayofrest.Hereandthereinafieldofclovercowsweremovingalongheavily，withfullbellies，chewingtheircudunderablazingsun.Unharnessedplowswerestandingattheendofafurrow;andtheupturnedearthreadyfortheseedshowedbroadbrownpatchesofstubbleofwheatandoatsthathadlatelybeenharvested.

Aratherdryautumnwindblewacrosstheplain，promisingacooleveningafterthesunhadset.Benoistsatdownonaditch，placedhishatonhiskneesasifheneededtocooloffhishead，andsaidaloudinthestillnessofthecountry："Ifyouwantafinegirl，sheisafinegirl."

Hethoughtofitagainatnight，inhisbed，andinthemorningwhenheawoke.

Hewasnotsad，hewasnotdiscontented，hecouldnothavetoldwhatailedhim.Itwassomethingthathadholdofhim，somethingfastenedinhismind，anideathatwouldnotleavehimandthatproducedasortofticklingsensationinhisheart.

Sometimesabigflyisshutupinaroom.Youhearitflyingabout，buzzing，andthenoisehauntsyou，irritatesyou.Suddenlyitstops;youforgetit;butallatonceitbeginsagain，obligingyoutolookup.

Youcannotcatchit，nordriveitaway，norkillit，normakeitkeepstill.Assoonasitsettlesforasecond，itstartsoffbuzzingagain.

TherecollectionofMartinedisturbedBenoist’smindlikeanimprisonedfly.

ThenhelongedtoseeheragainandwalkedpasttheMartiniereseveraltimes.Hesawher，atlast，hangingoutsomeclothesonalinestretchedbetweentwoappletrees.

Itwasawarmday.Shehadononlyashortskirtandherchemise，showingthecurvesofherfigureasshehungupthetowels.Heremainedthere，concealedbythehedge，formorethananhour，evenaftershehadleft.Hereturnedhomemoreobsessedwithherimagethanever.

Foramonthhismindwasfullofher，hetrembledwhenhernamewasmentionedinhispresence.Hecouldnoteat，hehadnightsweatsthatkepthimfromsleeping.

OnSunday，atmass，henevertookhiseyesoffher.Shenoticeditandsmiledathim，flatteredathisappreciation.

Oneevening，hesuddenlymetherintheroad.Shestoppedshortwhenshesawhimcoming.Thenhewalkedrightuptoher，chokingwithfearandemotion，butdeterminedtospeaktoher.Hebeganfalteringly：

"Seehere，Martine，thiscannotgoonlikethisanylonger."

Sherepliedasifshewantedtoteasehim：

"Whatcannotgoonanylonger，Benoist？"

"Mythinkingofyouasmanyhoursasthereareintheday，"heanswered.

Sheputherhandsonherhips.

"Idonotobligeyoutodoso."

"Yes，itisyou，"hestammered;"Icannotsleep，norrest，noreat，noranything."

"Whatdoyouneedtocureyouofallthat？"sheasked.

Hestoodthereindismay，hisarmsswinging，hiseyesstaring，hismouthagape.

Shehithimapunchinthestomachandranoff.

Fromthatdaytheymeteachotheralongtheroadside，inby—roadsorelseattwilightontheedgeofafield，whenhewasgoinghomewithhishorsesandshewasdrivinghercowshometothestable.

Hefelthimselfcarried，casttowardherbyastrongimpulseofhisheartandbody.Hewouldhavelikedtosqueezeher，strangleher，eather，makeherpartofhimself.Andhetrembledwithimpotence，impatience，rage，tothinkshedidnotbelongtohimentirely，asiftheywereonebeing.

Peoplegossipedaboutitinthecountryside.Theysaidtheywereengaged.Hehad，besides，askedherifshewouldbehiswife，andshehadanswered"Yes."

They，werewaitingforanopportunitytotalktotheirparentsaboutit.

But，allatonce，shestoppedcomingtomeethimattheusualhour.Hedidnotevenseeherashewanderedroundthefarm.HecouldonlycatchaglimpseofheratmassonSunday.AndoneSunday，afterthesermon，thepriestactuallypublishedthebannsofmarriagebetweenVictoire—

AdelaideMartinandJosephin—IsidoreVallin.

Benoistfeltasensationinhishandsasifthebloodhadbeendrainedoff.Hehadabuzzingintheears;andcouldhearnothing;andpresentlyheperceivedthathistearswerefallingonhisprayerbook.

Foramonthhestayedinhisroom.Thenhewentbacktohiswork.

Buthewasnotcured，anditwasalwaysinhismind.Heavoidedtheroadsthatledpastherhome，sothathemightnotevenseethetreesintheyard，andthisobligedhimtomakeagreatcircuitmorningandevening.

ShewasnowmarriedtoVallin，therichestfarmerinthedistrict.

Benoistandhedidnotspeaknow，thoughtheyhadbeencomradesfromchildhood.

Oneevening，asBenoistwaspassingthetownhall，heheardthatshewasenceinte.Insteadofexperiencingafeelingofsorrow，heexperienced，onthecontrary，afeelingofrelief.Itwasover，now，allover.Theyweremoreseparatedbythatthanbyhermarriage.Hereallypreferredthatitshouldbeso.

Monthspassed，andmoremonths.Hecaughtsightofher，occasionally，goingtothevillagewithaheavierstepthanusual.Sheblushedasshesawhim，loweredherheadandquickenedherpace.Andheturnedoutofhiswaysoasnottopassherandmeetherglance.

Hedreadedthethoughtthathemightonemorningmeetherfacetoface，andbeobligedtospeaktoher.Whatcouldhesaytohernow，afterallhehadsaidformerly，whenheheldherhandsashekissedherhairbesidehercheeks？Heoftenthoughtofthosemeetingsalongtheroadside.Shehadactedhorridlyafterallherpromises.

Bydegreeshisgriefdiminished，leavingonlysadnessbehind.Andonedayhetooktheoldroadthatledpastthefarmwhereshenowlived.

Helookedattherooffromadistance.Itwasthere，inthere，thatshelivedwithanother！Theappletreeswereinbloom，thecockscrowedonthedunghill.Thewholedwellingseemedempty，thefarmhandshadgonetothefieldstotheirspringtoil.Hestoppednearthegateandlookedintotheyard.Thedogwasasleepoutsidehiskennel，threecalveswerewalkingslowly，onebehindtheother，towardsthepond.Abigturkeywasstruttingbeforethedoor，paradingbeforetheturkeyhenslikeasingerattheopera.

Benoistleanedagainstthegatepostandwassuddenlyseizedwithadesiretoweep.Butsuddenly，heheardacry，aloudcryforhelpcomingfromthehouse.Hewasstruckwithdismay，hishandsgraspingthewoodenbarsofthegate，andlistenedattentively.Anothercry，aprolonged，heartrendingcry，reachedhisears，hissoul，hisflesh.Itwasshewhowascryinglikethat！Hedartedinside，crossedthegrasspatch，pushedopenthedoor，andsawherlyingonthefloor，herbodydrawnup，herfacelivid，hereyeshaggard，inthethroesofchildbirth.

Hestoodthere，tremblingandpalerthanshewas，andstammered：

"HereIam，hereIam，Martine！"

Sherepliedingasps：

"Oh，donotleaveme，donotleaveme，Benoist！"

Helookedather，notknowingwhattosay，whattodo.Shebegantocryoutagain：

"Oh，oh，itiskillingme.Oh，Benoist！"

Shewrithedfrightfully.

Benoistwassuddenlyseizedwithafranticlongingtohelpher，toquiether，toremoveherpain.Heleanedover，liftedherupandlaidheronherbed;andwhileshekeptonmoaninghebegantotakeoffherclothes，herjacket，herskirtandherpetticoat.Shebitherfiststokeepfromcryingout.Thenhedidashewasaccustomedtodoingforcows，ewes，andmares：heassistedindeliveringherandfoundinhishandsalargeinfantwhowasmoaning.

Hewipeditoffandwrappeditupinatowelthatwasdryinginfrontofthefire，andlaiditonabundleofclothesreadyforironingthatwasonthetable.Thenhewentbacktothemother.

Hetookherupandplacedherontheflooragain，thenhechangedthebedclothesandputherbackintobed.Shefaltered：

"Thankyou，Benoist，youhaveanobleheart."Andthensheweptalittleasifshefeltregretful.

Hedidnotloveheranylonger，nottheleastbit.Itwasallover.

Why？How？Hecouldnothavesaid.Whathadhappenedhadcuredhimbetterthantenyearsofabsence.

Sheasked，exhaustedandtrembling：

"Whatisit？"

Herepliedcalmly：

"Itisaveryfinegirl."

Thentheyweresilentagain.Attheendofafewmoments，themother，inaweakvoice，said：

"Showhertome，Benoist."

Hetookupthelittleoneandwasshowingittoherasifhewereholdingtheconsecratedwafer，whenthedooropened，andIsidoreVallinappeared.

Hedidnotunderstandatfirst，thenallatonceheguessed.

Benoist，inconsternation，stammeredout：

"Iwaspassing，Iwasjustpassingbywhenfheardhercryingout，andI

came——thereisyourchild，Vallin！"

Thenthehusband，hiseyesfulloftears，steppedforward，tookthelittlemiteofhumanitythatheheldouttohim，kissedit，unabletospeakfromemotionforafewseconds;thenplacingthechildonthebed，heheldoutbothhandstoBenoist，saying：

"Yourhanduponit，Benoist.Fromnowonweunderstandeachother.Ifyouarewilling，wewillbeapairoffriends，apairoffriends！"AndBenoistreplied："IndeedIwill，certainly，indeedIwill."

ALLOVER

ComptedeLormerinhadjustfinisheddressing.Hecastapartingglanceatthelargemirrorwhichoccupiedanentirepanelinhisdressing—roomandsmiled.

Hewasreallyafine—lookingmanstill，althoughquitegray.Tall，slight，elegant，withnosignofapaunch，withasmallmustacheofdoubtfulshade，whichmightbecalledfair，hehadawalk，anobility，a"chic，"inshort，thatindescribablesomethingwhichestablishesagreaterdifferencebetweentwomenthanwouldmillionsofmoney.Hemurmured：

"Lormerinisstillalive！"

Andhewentintothedrawing—roomwherehiscorrespondenceawaitedhim.

Onhistable，whereeverythinghaditsplace，theworktableofthegentlemanwhoneverworks，therewereadozenletterslyingbesidethreenewspapersofdifferentopinions.Withasingletouchhespreadoutalltheseletters，likeagamblergivingthechoiceofacard;andhescannedthehandwriting，athinghedideachmorningbeforeopeningtheenvelopes.

Itwasforhimamomentofdelightfulexpectancy，ofinquiryandvagueanxiety.Whatdidthesesealedmysteriouslettersbringhim？Whatdidtheycontainofpleasure，ofhappiness，orofgrief？Hesurveyedthemwitharapidsweepoftheeye，recognizingthewriting，selectingthem，makingtwoorthreelots，accordingtowhatheexpectedfromthem.Here，friends;there，personstowhomhewasindifferent;furtheron，strangers.Thelastkindalwaysgavehimalittleuneasiness.Whatdidtheywantfromhim？Whathandhadtracedthosecuriouscharactersfullofthoughts，promises，orthreats？

Thisdayoneletterinparticularcaughthiseye.Itwassimple，nevertheless，withoutseemingtorevealanything;buthelookedatituneasily，withasortofchillathisheart.Hethought："Fromwhomcanitbe？Icertainlyknowthiswriting，andyetIcan’tidentifyit."

Heraisedittoalevelwithhisface，holdingitdelicatelybetweentwofingers，strivingtoreadthroughtheenvelope，withoutmakinguphismindtoopenit.

Thenhesmelledit，andsnatchedupfromthetablealittlemagnifyingglasswhichheusedinstudyingallthenicetiesofhandwriting.Hesuddenlyfeltunnerved."Whomisitfrom？Thishandisfamiliartome，veryfamiliar.Imusthaveoftenreaditstracings，yes，veryoften.

Butthismusthavebeenalong，longtimeago.Whomthedeucecanitbefrom？Pooh！it’sonlysomebodyaskingformoney."

Andhetoreopentheletter.Thenheread：

MYDEARFRIEND：Youhave，withoutdoubt，forgottenme，foritisnowtwenty—fiveyearssincewesaweachother.Iwasyoung;Iamold.

WhenIbadeyoufarewell，IleftParisinordertofollowintotheprovincesmyhusband，myoldhusband，whomyouusedtocall"myhospital."Doyourememberhim？Hediedfiveyearsago，andnowI

amreturningtoParistogetmydaughtermarried，forIhaveadaughter，abeautifulgirlofeighteen，whomyouhaveneverseen.

Iinformedyouofherbirth，butyoucertainlydidnotpaymuchattentiontosotriflinganevent.

YouarestillthehandsomeLormerin;soIhavebeentold.Well，ifyoustillrecollectlittleLise，whomyouusedtocallLison，comeanddinewithherthisevening，withtheelderlyBaronnedeVanceyoureverfaithfulfriend，who，withsomeemotion，althoughhappy，reachesouttoyouadevotedhand，whichyoumustc1asp，butnolongerkiss，mypoorJaquelet.

LISEDEVANCE.

Lormerin’sheartbegantothrob.Heremainedsunkinhisarmchairwiththeletteronhisknees，staringstraightbeforehim，overcomebyapoignantemotionthatmadethetearsmountuptohiseyes！

Ifhehadeverlovedawomaninhislifeitwasthisone，littleLise，LisedeVance，whomhecalled"Ashflower，"onaccountofthestrangecolorofherhairandthepalegrayofhereyes.Oh！whatadainty，pretty，charmingcreatureshewas，thisfrailbaronne，thewifeofthatgouty，pimplybaron，whohadabruptlycarriedherofftotheprovinces，shutherup，keptherinseclusionthroughjealousy，jealousyofthehandsomeLormerin.

Yes，hehadlovedher，andhebelievedthathetoo，hadbeentrulyloved.

Shefamiliarlygavehim，thenameofJaquelet，andwouldpronouncethatwordinadeliciousfashion.

Athousandforgottenmemoriescamebacktohim，far，offandsweetandmelancholynow.Oneeveningshehadcalledonhimonherwayhomefromaball，andtheywentforastrollintheBoisdeBoulogne，sheineveningdress，heinhisdressing—jacket.Itwasspringtime;theweatherwasbeautiful.Thefragrancefromherbodiceembalmedthewarmair—theodorofherbodice，andperhaps，too，thefragranceofherskin.Whatadivinenight！Whentheyreachedthelake，asthemoon’sraysfellacrossthebranchesintothewater，shebegantoweep.Alittlesurprised，heaskedherwhy.

"Idon’tknow.Themoonandthewaterhaveaffectedme.EverytimeI

seepoeticthingsIhaveatighteningattheheart，andIhavetocry."

Hesmiled，affectedhimself，consideringherfeminineemotioncharming——

theunaffectedemotionofapoorlittlewoman，whomeverysensationoverwhelms.Andheembracedherpassionately，stammering：

"MylittleLise，youareexquisite."

Whatacharmingloveaffair，short—livedanddainty，ithadbeenandoveralltooquickly，cutshortinthemidstofitsardorbythisoldbruteofabaron，whohadcarriedoffhiswife，andneverletanyoneseeherafterward.

Lormerinhadforgotten，infact，attheendoftwoorthreemonths.OnewomandrivesoutanothersoquicklyinParis，whenoneisabachelor！Nomatter;hehadkeptalittlealtarforherinhisheart，forhehadlovedheralone！Heassuredhimselfnowthatthiswasso.

Herose，andsaidaloud："Certainly，Iwillgoanddinewithherthisevening！"

Andinstinctivelyheturnedtowardthemirrortoinspecthimselffromheadtofoot.Hereflected："Shemustlookveryold，olderthanIlook."

Andhefeltgratifiedatthethoughtofshowinghimselftoherstillhandsome，stillfresh，ofastonishingher，perhapsoffillingherwithemotion，andmakingherregretthosebygonedayssofar，fardistant！

Heturnedhisattentiontotheotherletters.Theywereofnoimportance.

Thewholedayhekeptthinkingofthisghostofotherdays.Whatwasshelikenow？Howstrangeitwastomeetinthiswayaftertwenty—fiveyears！Butwouldherecognizeher？

Hemadehistoiletwithfemininecoquetry，putonawhitewaistcoat，whichsuitedhimbetterwiththecoatthanablackone，sentforthehairdressertogivehimafinishingtouchWiththecurlingiron，forhehadpreservedhishair，andstartedveryearlyinordertoshowhiseagernesstoseeher.

Thefirstthinghesawonenteringaprettydrawing—roomnewlyfurnishedwashisownportrait，anoldfadedphotograph，datingfromthedayswhenhewasabeau，hangingonthewallinanantiquesilkframe.

Hesatdownandwaited.Adooropenedbehindhim.Heroseupabruptly，and，turninground，beheldanoldwomanwithwhitehairwhoextendedbothhandstowardhim.

Heseizedthem，kissedthemoneaftertheotherseveraltimes;then，liftinguphishead，hegazedatthewomanhehadloved.

Yes，itwasanoldlady，anoldladywhomhedidnotrecognize，andwho，whileshesmiled，seemedreadytoweep.

Hecouldnotabstainfrommurmuring：

"Isityou，Lise？"

Shereplied：

"Yes，itisI;itisI，indeed.Youwouldnothaveknownme，wouldyou？

Ihavehadsomuchsorrow——somuchsorrow.Sorrowhasconsumedmylife.

Lookatmenow——or，rather，don’tlookatme！Buthowhandsomeyouhavekept——andyoung！IfIhadbychancemetyouinthestreetIwouldhaveexclaimed：’Jaquelet！’.Now，sitdownandletus，firstofall，haveachat.AndthenIwillcallmydaughter，mygrown—updaughter.You’llseehowsheresemblesme——or，rather，howIresembledher——no，itisnotquitethat;sheisjustlikethe’me’offormerdays——youshallsee！ButIwantedtobealonewithyoufirst.Ifearedthattherewouldbesomeemotiononmyside，atthefirstmoment.Nowitisallover;itispast.

Praybeseated，myfriend."

Hesatdownbesideher，holdingherhand;buthedidnotknowwhattosay;hedidnotknowthiswoman——itseemedtohimthathehadneverseenherbefore.Whyhadhecometothishouse？Whatcouldhetalkabout？

Ofthelongago？Whatwasthereincommonbetweenhimandher？Hecouldnolongerrecallanythinginpresenceofthisgrandmotherlyface.Hecouldnolongerrecallallthenice，tenderthings，sosweet，sobitter，thathadcometohismindthatmorningwhenhethoughtoftheother，oflittleLise，ofthedaintyAshflower.What，then，hadbecomeofher，theformerone，theonehehadloved？Thatwomanoffar—offdreams，theblondewithgrayeyes，theyounggirlwhousedtocallhim"Jaquelet"soprettily？

Theyremainedsidebyside，motionless，bothconstrained，troubled，profoundlyillatease.

Astheytalkedonlycommonplaces，awkwardlyandspasmodicallyandslowly，sheroseandpressedthebuttonofthebell.

"IamgoingtocallRenee，"shesaid.

Therewasatapatthedoor，thentherustleofadress;thenayoungvoiceexclaimed：

"HereIam，mamma！"

Lormerinremainedbewilderedasatthesightofanapparition.

Hestammered：

"Good—day，mademoiselle"

Then，turningtowardthemother：

"Oh！itisyou！

Infact，itwasshe，shewhomhehadknowninbygonedays，theLisewhohadvanishedandcomeback！Inherhefoundthewomanhehadwontwenty—

fiveyearsbefore.Thisonewasevenyounger，fresher，morechildlike.

Hefeltawilddesiretoopenhisarms，toclasphertohisheartagain，murmuringinherear：

"Good—morning，Lison！"

Aman—servantannounced：

"Dinnerisready，madame."

Andtheyproceededtowardthedining—room.

Whatpassedatthisdinner？Whatdidtheysaytohim，andwhatcouldhesayinreply？Hefoundhimselfplungedinoneofthosestrangedreamswhichborderoninsanity.Hegazedatthetwowomenwithafixedideainhismind，amorbid，self—contradictoryidea：

"Whichistherealone