that. Women never imagine that from the depths of our mire we raise
our eyes to heaven and truly adore a Marie. They assail that sacred
love with miserable doubts; they cannot believe that men of intellect
and poesy can so detach their soul from earthly enjoyment as to lay it
pure upon some cherished altar. And yet, Marie, the worship of the
ideal is more fervent in men then in women; we find it in women, who
do not even look for it in us."

"Why are you making me that article?" she said, jestingly.

"I am leaving France; and you will hear to-morrow, how and why, from a
letter my valet will bring you. Adieu, Marie."

Raoul left the house after again straining the countess to his heart
with dreadful pressure, leaving her stupefied and distressed.

"What is the matter, my dear?" said Madame d'Espard, coming to look
for her. "What has Monsieur Nathan been saying to you? He has just
left us in a most melodramatic way. Perhaps you are too reasonable or
too unreasonable with him."

The countess got into a hackney-coach and was driven rapidly to the
newspaper office. At that hour the huge apartments which they occupied
in an old mansion in the rue Feydeau were deserted; not a soul was
there but the watchman, who was greatly surprised to see a young and
pretty woman hurrying through the rooms in evident distress. She asked
him to tell her where was Monsieur Nathan.

"At Mademoiselle Florine's, probably," replied the man, taking Marie
for a rival who intended to make a scene.