affections are wrecked, many prudent calculations, many lives. The
husband becomes a pedagogue, or, if you like, a professor, and love
perishes under the rod which, sooner or later, gives pain; for a young
and handsome wife, at once discreet and laughter-loving, will not
accept any superiority above that with which she is endowed by nature.
Perhaps I was in the wrong? During the difficult beginnings of a
household I, perhaps, assumed a magisterial tone? On the other hand, I
may have made the mistake of trusting too entirely to that artless
nature; I kept no watch over the Countess, in whom revolt seemed to me
impossible? Alas! neither in politics nor in domestic life has it yet
been ascertained whether empires and happiness are wrecked by too much
confidence or too much severity! Perhaps again, the husband failed to
realize Honorine's girlish dreams? Who can tell, while happy days
last, what precepts he has neglected?'

"I remember only the broad outlines of the reproaches the Count
addressed to himself, with all the good faith of an anatomist seeking
the cause of a disease which might be overlooked by his brethren; but
his merciful indulgence struck me then as really worthy of that of
Jesus Christ when He rescued the woman taken in adultery.

"'It was eighteen months after my father's death--my mother followed
him to the tomb in a few months--when the fearful night came which
surprised me by Honorine's farewell letter. What poetic delusion had
seduced my wife? Was it through her senses? Was it the magnetism of
misfortune or of genius? Which of these powers had taken her by storm
or misled her?--I would not know. The blow was so terrible, that for a
month I remained stunned. Afterwards, reflection counseled me to
continue in ignorance, and Honorine's misfortunes have since taught me
too much about all these things.--So far, Maurice, the story is