one, the only one that was impossible to overcome, the only one that ever
existed. Strange fact! I could see clearly, as clearly as I saw the sun,
that the impossible, the irreparable was there, and I could not accept it,
I could not submit to it. I could see that woman lost to me as irrevocably
as if the grave had closed over her coffin, and I could not give her up!
My mind wandered through insane projects and resolutions; I thought of
picking a quarrel with Monsieur de Mauterne, and compelling him to fight
on the spot. I felt that I would have crushed him! Then I thought of
fleeing with her, of marrying her, of taking her with her shame, after
having refused her pure! Yes, this madness tempted me! To remove it from
my thoughts, I had to repeat a hundred times to myself that mutual disgust
and dispair were the only fruits that could ever be expected of that union
of a dishonored hand with a bloody hand. Ah; Paul, how much I did suffer!

Madame de Palme manifested during the entire course of our ride a feverish
excitement which betrayed itself more particularly in reckless feats of
horsemanship. I heard at intervals her loud bursts of merriment, that
sounded to my ears like heart-rending wails. Once again she spoke to me as
she was going by.

"I inspire you with horror, don't I?" she said.

I shook my head and dropped my eyes without replying.

We returned to the chateau at about four o'clock. I was making my way to
my room when a confused tumult of voices, shrieks, and hurried steps in
the vestibule chilled my heart. I went down again in all haste, and I was
informed that Madame de Palme had just been taken with a nervous fit. She
had been carried into the parlor. I recognized through the door the grave
and gentle voice of Madame de Malouet, to which was mingled I know not