little delicacy as to demand the mockery of love from a wife who no
longer loves me."

The Countess gave him a flashing look full of such deep gratitude that
poor Chabert would have been glad to sink again into his grave at
Eylau. Some men have a soul strong enough for such self-devotion, of
which the whole reward consists in the assurance that they have made
the person they love happy.

"My dear friend, we will talk all this over later when our hearts have
rested," said the Countess.

The conversation turned to other subjects, for it was impossible to
dwell very long on this one. Though the couple came back again and
again to their singular position, either by some allusion or of
serious purpose, they had a delightful drive, recalling the events of
their former life together and the times of the Empire. The Countess
knew how to lend peculiar charm to her reminiscences, and gave the
conversation the tinge of melancholy that was needed to keep it
serious. She revived his love without awakening his desires, and
allowed her first husband to discern the mental wealth she had
acquired while trying to accustom him to moderate his pleasure to that
which a father may feel in the society of a favorite daughter.

The Colonel had known the Countess of the Empire; he found her a
Countess of the Restoration.

At last, by a cross-road, they arrived at the entrance to a large park
lying in the little valley which divides the heights of Margency from
the pretty village of Groslay. The Countess had there a delightful