conscience the cold, cruel calm which served as a mask to cover remorse.

Sainte-Croix and the marquise loved at first sight, and she was soon his
mistress. The marquis, perhaps endowed with the conjugal philosophy
which alone pleased the taste of the period, perhaps too much occupied
with his own pleasure to see what was going on before his eyes, offered
no jealous obstacle to the intimacy, and continued his foolish
extravagances long after they had impaired his fortunes: his affairs
became so entangled that the marquise, who cared for him no longer, and
desired a fuller liberty for the indulgence of her new passion, demanded
and obtained a separation. She then left her husband's house, and
henceforth abandoning all discretion, appeared everywhere in public with
Sainte-Croix. This behaviour, authorised as it was by the example of the
highest nobility, made no impression upon the. Marquis of Brinvilliers,
who merrily pursued the road to ruin, without worrying about his wife's
behaviour. Not so M. de Dreux d'Aubray: he had the scrupulosity of a
legal dignitary. He was scandalised at his daughter's conduct, and
feared a stain upon his own fair name: he procured a warrant for the
arrest of Sainte-Croix wheresoever the bearer might chance to encounter
him. We have seen how it was put in execution when Sainte-Croix was
driving in the carriage of the marquise, whom our readers will doubtless
have recognised as the woman who concealed herself so carefully.

From one's knowledge of the character of Sainte-Croix, it is easy to
imagine that he had to use great self-control to govern the anger he felt
at being arrested in the middle of the street; thus, although during the
whole drive he uttered not a single word, it was plain to see that a
terrible storm was gathering, soon to break. But he preserved the same
impossibility both at the opening and shutting of the fatal gates, which,
like the gates of hell, had so often bidden those who entered abandon all