And as if by magic, he found himself sitting by his wife in the
brougham.

"Where to?" asked the servant.

"To Groslay," said she.

The horses started at once, and carried them all across Paris.

"Monsieur," said the Countess, in a tone of voice which betrayed one
of those emotions which are rare in our lives, and which agitate every
part of our being. At such moments the heart, fibres, nerves,
countenance, soul, and body, everything, every pore even, feels a
thrill. Life no longer seems to be within us; it flows out, springs
forth, is communicated as if by contagion, transmitted by a look, a
tone of voice, a gesture, impressing our will on others. The old
soldier started on hearing this single word, this first, terrible
"monsieur!" But still it was at once a reproach and a pardon, a hope
and a despair, a question and an answer. This word included them all;
none but an actress could have thrown so much eloquence, so many
feelings into a single word. Truth is less complete in its utterance;
it does not put everything on the outside; it allows us to see what is
within. The Colonel was filled with remorse for his suspicions, his
demands, and his anger; he looked down not to betray his agitation.

"Monsieur," repeated she, after an imperceptible pause, "I knew you at
once."

"Rosine," said the old soldier, "those words contain the only balm
that can help me to forget my misfortunes."