"
Jules returned home.
"What is the matter, Jules?" asked his wife, when she saw him. "You
look so pale you frighten me!"
"The day is cold," he answered, walking with slow steps across the
room where all things spoke to him of love and happiness,--that room
so calm and peaceful where a deadly storm was gathering.
"Did you go out to-day?" he asked, as though mechanically.
He was impelled to ask the question by the last of a myriad of
thoughts which had gathered themselves together into a lucid
meditation, though jealousy was actively prompting them.
"No," she answered, in a tone that was falsely candid.
At that instant Jules saw through the open door of the dressing-room
the velvet bonnet which his wife wore in the mornings; on it were
drops of rain. Jules was a passionate man, but he was also full of
delicacy. It was repugnant to him to bring his wife face to face with
a lie. When such a situation occurs, all has come to an end forever
between certain beings. And yet those drops of rain were like a flash
tearing through his brain.
He left the room, went down to the porter's lodge, and said to the
porter, after making sure that they were alone:--
"Fouguereau, a hundred crowns if you tell me the truth; dismissal if
you deceive me; and nothing at all if you ever speak of my question
and your answer."
He stopped to examine the man's face, leading him under the window.
Then he continued:--
"Did madame go out this morning?"
"Madame went out at a quarter to three, and I think I saw her come in
about half an hour ago.
Pages:
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102