making arpeggios with his long, white, curved fingers. She was standing
in the angle of the grand piano, before the open score. She saw or
heard me first, and raised her eyes to mine. Was she stunned, was she
pretending not to be frightened, or was she really not frightened at
all? In any case, she did not tremble, she did not stir. She blushed,
but only a little later.

"'How glad I am that you have come! We have not decided what we will
play Sunday,' said she, in a tone that she would not have had if she had
been alone with me.

"This tone, and the way in which she said 'we' in speaking of herself
and of him, revolted me. I saluted him silently. He shook hands with me
directly, with a smile that seemed to me full of mockery. He explained
to me that he had brought some scores, in order to prepare for the
Sunday concert, and that they were not in accord as to the piece
to choose,--whether difficult, classic things, notably a sonata by
Beethoven, or lighter pieces.

"And as he spoke, he looked at me. It was all so natural, so simple, that
there was absolutely nothing to be said against it. And at the same time
I saw, I was sure, that it was false, that they were in a conspiracy to
deceive me.

"One of the most torturing situations for the jealous (and in our social
life everybody is jealous) are those social conditions which allow
a very great and dangerous intimacy between a man and a woman under
certain pretexts. One must make himself the laughing stock of everybody,
if he desires to prevent associations in the ball-room, the intimacy
of doctors with their patients, the familiarity of art occupations, and