without passing any one who recognized me.

"Jacques is better," were the first words he said to me.
I explained to him my position of diplomatic postman, hunted like a

wild beast, and the brave gentleman in his quality of royalist claimed
the danger over Chessel of receiving me. As we came in sight of

Clochegourde the past eight months rolled away like a dream. When we
entered the salon the count said: "Guess whom I bring you?--Felix!"

"Is it possible!" she said, with pendant arms and a bewildered face.
I showed myself and we both remained motionless" target="_blank" title="a.静止的；固定的">motionless; she in her armchair,

I on the threshold of the door; looking at each other with that hunger
of the soul which endeavors to make up in a single glance for the lost

months. Then, recovering from a surprise which left her heart
unveiled, she rose and I went up to her.

"I have prayed for your safety," she said, giving me her hand to kiss.
She asked news of her father; then she guessed my weariness and went

to prepare my room, while the count gave me something to eat, for I
was dying of hunger. My room was the one above hers, her aunt's room;

she requested the count to take me there, after setting her foot on
the first step of the staircase, deliberating no doubt whether to

accompany me; I turned my head, she blushed, bade me sleep well, and
went away. When I came down to dinner I heard for the first time of

the disasters at Waterloo, the flight of Napoleon, the march of the
Allies to Paris, and the probable return of the Bourbons. These events

were all in all to the count; to us they were nothing. What think you
was the great event I was to learn, after kissing the children?--for I

will not dwell on the alarm I felt at seeing the countess pale and
shrunken; I knew the injury I might do by showing it and was careful

to express only joy at seeing her. But the great event for us was told
in the words, "You shall have ice to-day!" She had often fretted the

year before that the water was not cold enough for me, who, never
drinking anything else, liked it iced. God knows how many entreaties

it had cost her to get an ice-house built. You know better than any
one that a word, a look, an inflection of the voice, a trifling

attention, suffices for love; love's noblest privilege is to prove
itself by love. Well, her words, her look, her pleasure, showed me her

feelings, as I had formerly shown her mine by that first game of
backgammon. These ingenuous proofs of her affection were many; on the

seventh day after my arrival she recovered her freshness, she sparkled
with health and youth and happiness; my lily expanded in beauty just

as the treasures of my heart increased. Only in petty minds or in
common hearts can absencelessen love or efface the features or

diminish the beauty of our dear one. To ardent imaginations, to all
beings through whose veins enthusiasm passes like a crimson tide, and

in whom passion takes the form of constancy, absence has the same
effect as the sufferings of the early Christians, which strengthened

their faith and made God visible to them. In hearts that abound in
love are there not incessant longings for a desired object, to which

the glowing fire of our dreams gives higher value and a deeper tint?
Are we not conscious of instigations which give to the beloved

features the beauty of the ideal by inspiring them with thought? The
past, dwelt on in all its details becomes magnified; the future teems

with hope. When two hearts filled with these electric clouds meet each
other, their interview is like the welcome storm which revives the

earth and stimulates it with the swift lightnings of the thunderbolt.
How many tender pleasures came to me when I found these thoughts and

these sensations reciprocal! With what glad eyes I followed the
development of happiness in Henriette! A woman who renews her life

from that of her beloved gives, perhaps, a greater proof of feeling
than she who dies killed by a doubt, withered on her stock for want of

sap; I know not which of the two is the more touching.
The revival of Madame de Mortsauf was wholly natural, like the effects

of the month of May upon the meadows, or those of the sun and of the
brook upon the drooping flowers. Henriette, like our dear valley of

love, had had her winter; she revived like the valley in the
springtime. Before dinner we went down to the belovedterrace. There,

with one hand stroking the head of her son, who walked feebly beside
her, silent, as though he were breeding an illness, she told me of her

nights beside his pillow.
For three months, she said, she had lived wholly within herself,

inhabiting, as it were, a dark palace; afraid to enter sumptuous rooms
where the light shone, where festivals were given, to her denied, at

the door of which she stood, one glance turned upon her child, another
to a dim and distant figure; one ear listening for moans, another for

a voice. She told me poems, born of solitude, such as no poet ever
sang; but all ingenuously, without one vestige of love, one trace of

voluptuous thought, one echo of a poesy orientally soothing as the
rose of Frangistan. When the count joined us she continued in the same

tone, like a woman secure within herself, able to look proudly at her
husband and kiss the forehead of her son without a blush. She had

prayed much; she had clasped her hands for nights together over her
child, refusing to let him die.

"I went," she said, "to the gate of the sanctuary and asked his life
of God."

She had had visions, and she told them to me; but when she said, in
that angelic voice of hers, these exquisite words, "While I slept my

heart watched," the count harshly interrupted her.
"That is to say, you were half crazy," he cried.

She was silent, as deeply hurt as though it were a first wound;
forgetting that for thirteen years this man had lost no chance to

shoot his arrows into her heart. Like a soaring bird struck on the
wing by vulgar shot, she sank into a dull depression; then she roused

herself.
"How is it, monsieur," she said, "that no word of mine ever finds

favor in your sight? Have you no indulgence for my weakness,--no
comprehension of me as a woman?"

She stopped short. Already she regretted the murmur, and measured the
future by the past; how could she expect comprehension? Had she not

drawn upon herself some virulent attack? The blue veins of her temples
throbbed; she shed no tears, but the color of her eyes faded. Then she

looked down, that she might not see her pain reflected on my face, her
feelings guessed, her soul wooed by my soul; above all, not see the

sympathy of young love, ready like a faithful dog to spring at the
throat of whoever threatened his mistress, without regard to the

assailant's strength or quality. At such cruel moments the count's air
of superiority was supreme. He thought he had triumphed over his wife,

and he pursued her with a hail of phrases which repeated the one idea,
and were like the blows of an axe which fell with unvarying sound.

"Always the same?" I said, when the count left us to follow the
huntsman who came to speak to him.

"Always," answered Jacques.
"Always excellent, my son," she said, endeavoring to withdraw Monsieur

de Mortsauf from the judgment of his children. "You see only the
present, you know nothing of the past; therefore you cannot criticise

your father without doing him injustice. But even if you had the pain
of seeing that your father was to blame, family honor requires you to

bury such secrets in silence."
"How have the changes at the Cassine and the Rhetoriere answered?" I

asked, to divert her mind from bitter thoughts.
"Beyond my expectations," she replied. "As soon as the buildings were

finished we found two excellent farmers ready to hire them; one at
four thousand five hundred francs, taxes paid; the other at five

thousand; both leases for fifteen years. We have already planted three
thousand young trees on the new farms. Manette's cousin is delighted

to get the Rabelaye; Martineau has taken the Baude. All OUR efforts
have been crowned with success. Clochegourde, without the reserved

land which we call the home-farm, and without the timber and
vineyards, brings in nineteen thousand francs a year, and the

plantations are becoming valuable. I am battling to let the home-farm
to Martineau, the keeper, whose eldest son can now take his place. He

offers three thousand francs if Monsieur de Mortsauf will build him a
farm-house at the Commanderie. We might then clear the approach to

Clochegourde, finish the proposed avenue to the main road, and have
only the woodland and the vineyards to take care of ourselves. If the

king returns, OUR pension will be restored; WE shall consent after
clashing a little with OUR wife's common-sense. Jacques' fortune will

then be permanently secured. That result obtained, I shall leave
monsieur to lay by as much as he likes for Madeleine, though the king