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〃You have punished me well；〃 she said； addressing him。
Vandenesse gazed at her in astonishment。
〃Punished？〃 he echoed。 〃And for what？〃 He understood her quite well； but he meant to be avenged for all that he had suffered as soon as she suspected it。
〃Why have you not come to see me？〃 she demanded with a smile。
〃Then you have seen no visitors？〃 asked he； parrying the question。
〃Yes。 M。 de Ronquerolles and M。 de Marsay and young d'Escrignon came and stayed for nearly two hours； the first two yesterday； the last this morning。 And besides； I have had a call； I believe； from Mme。 Firmiani and from your sister； Mme。 de Listomere。〃
Here was a new infliction； torture which none can comprehend unless they know love as a fierce and all…invading tyrant whose mildest symptom is a monstrous jealousy； a perpetual desire to snatch away the beloved from every other influence。
〃What！〃 thought he to himself； 〃she has seen visitors； she has been with happy creatures； and talking to them； while I was unhappy and all alone。〃
He buried his annoyance forthwith； and consigned love to the depths of his heart； like a coffin to the sea。 His thoughts were of the kind that never find expression in words； they pass through the mind swiftly as a deadly acid； that poisons as it evaporates and vanishes。 His brow； however； was over…clouded； and Mme。 d'Aiglemont； guided by her woman's instinct； shared his sadness without understanding it。 She had hurt him； unwittingly； as Vandenesse knew。 He talked over his position with her； as if his jealousy were one of those hypothetical cases which lovers love to discuss。 Then the Marquise understood it all。 She was so deeply moved； that she could not keep back the tears and so these lovers entered the heaven of love。
Heaven and Hell are two great imaginative conceptions formulating our ideas of Joy and Sorrowthose two poles about which human existence revolves。 Is not heaven a figure of speech covering now and for evermore an infinite of human feeling impossible to express save in its accidentssince that Joy is one？ And what is Hell but the symbol of our infinite power to suffer tortures so diverse that of our pain it is possible to fashion works of art； for no two human sorrows are alike？
One evening the two lovers sat alone and side by side； silently watching one of the fairest transformations of the sky； a cloudless heaven taking hues of pale gold and purple from the last rays of the sunset。 With the slow fading of the daylight； sweet thoughts seem to awaken； and soft stirrings of passion； and a mysterious sense of trouble in the midst of calm。 Nature sets before us vague images of bliss； bidding us enjoy the happiness within our reach； or lament it when it has fled。 In those moments fraught with enchantment； when the tender light in the canopy of the sky blends in harmony with the spells working within； it is difficult to resist the heart's desires grown so magically potent。 Cares are blunted； joy becomes ecstasy； pain； intolerable anguish。 The pomp of sunset gives the signal for confessions and draws them forth。 Silence grows more dangerous than speech for it gives to eyes all the power of the infinite of the heavens reflected in them。 And for speech； the least word has irresistible might。 Is not the light infused into the voice and purple into the glances？ Is not heaven within us； or do we feel that we are in the heavens？
Vandenesse and Juliefor so she had allowed herself to be called for the past few days by him whom she loved to speak of as Charles Vandenesse and Julie were talking together； but they had drifted very far from their original subject； and if their spoken words had grown meaningless they listened in delight to the unspoken thoughts that lurked in the sounds。 Her hand lay in his。 She had abandoned it to him without a thought that she had granted a proof of love。
Together they leaned forward to look out upon a majestic cloud country； full of snows and glaciers and fantastic mountain peaks with gray stains of shadow on their sides； a picture composed of sharp contrasts between fiery red and the shadows of darkness； filling the skies with a fleeting vision of glory which cannot be reproduced magnificent swaddling…bands of sunrise； bright shrouds of the dying sun。 As they leaned Julie's hair brushed lightly against Vandenesse's cheek。 She felt that light contact； and shuddered violently； and he even more； for imperceptibly they both had reached one of those inexplicable crises when quiet has wrought upon the senses until every faculty of perception is so keen that the slightest shock fills the heart lost in melancholy with sadness that overflows in tears； or raises joy to ecstasy in a heart that is lost in the vertigo of love。 Almost involuntarily Julie pressed her lover's hand。 That wooing pressure gave courage to his timidity。 All the joy of the present； all the hopes of the future were blended in the emotion of a first caress； the bashful trembling kiss that Mme。 d'Aiglemont received upon her cheek。 The slighter the concession； the more dangerous and insinuating it was。 For their double misfortune it was only too sincere a revelation。 Two noble natures had met and blended； drawn each to each by every law of natural attraction； held apart by every ordinance。
General d'Aiglemont came in at that very moment。
〃The Ministry has gone out；〃 he said。 〃Your uncle will be in the new cabinet。 So you stand an uncommonly good chance of an embassy； Vandenesse。〃
Charles and Julie looked at each other and flushed red。 That blush was one more tie to unite them； there was one thought and one remorse in either mind； between two lovers guilty of a kiss there is a bond quite as strong and terrible as the bond between two robbers who have murdered a man。 Something had to be said by way of reply。
〃I do not care to leave Paris now；〃 Charles said。
〃We know why；〃 said the General； with the knowing air of a man who discovers a secret。 〃You do not like to leave your uncle； because you do not wish to lose your chance of succeeding to the title。〃
The Marquise took refuge in her room； and in her mind passed a pitiless verdict upon her husband。
〃His stupidity is really beyond anything！〃
IV。
THE FINGER OF GOD
Between the Barriere d'Italie and the Barriere de la Sante； along the boulevard which leads to the Jardin des Plantes； you have a view of Paris fit to send an artist or the tourist； the most /blase/ in matters of landscape； into ecstasies。 Reach the slightly higher ground where the line of boulevard； shaded by tall； thick…spreading trees； curves with the grace of some green and silent forest avenue； and you see spread out at your feet a deep valley populous with factories looking almost countrified among green trees and the brown streams of the Bievre or the Gobelins。
On the opposite slope； beneath some thousands of roofs packed close together like heads in a crowd； lurks the squalor of the Faubourg Saint…Marceau。 The imposing cupola of the Pantheon； and the grim melancholy dome of the Val…du…Grace； tower proudly up above a whole town in itself； built amphitheatre…wise； every tier being grotesquely represented by a crooked line of street； so that the two public monuments look like a huge pair of giants dwarfing into insignificance the poor little houses and the tallest poplars in the valley。 To your left behold the observatory； the daylight； pouring athwart its windows and galleries； producing such fantastical strange effects that the building looks like a black spectral skeleton。 Further yet in the distance rises the elegant lantern tower of the Invalides； soaring up between the bluish pile of the Luxembourg and the gray tours of Saint… Sulpice。 From this standpoint the lines of the architecture are blended with green leaves and gray shadows； and change every moment with every aspect of the heavens； every alteration of light or color in the sky。 Afar； the skyey spaces themselves seem to be full of buildings； near； wind the serpentine curves of waving trees and green footpaths。
Away to your right； through a great gap in this singular landscape； you see the canal Saint…Martin； a long pale stripe with its edging of reddish stone quays and fringes of lime avenue。 The long rows of buildings beside it； in genuine Roman style； are the public granaries。
Beyond； again； on the very last plane of all； see the smoke…dimmed slopes of Belleville covered with houses and windmills； which blend their freaks of outline with the chance effects of cloud。 And still； between that horizon； vague as some childish recollection； and the serried range of roofs in the valley； a whole city lies out of sight： a huge city； engulfed； as it were； in a vast hollow between the pinnacles of the Hopital de la Pitie and the ridge line of the Cimetiere de l'Est； between suffering on the one hand and death on the other； a city sending up a smothered roar like Ocean grumbling at the foot of a cliff； as if to let you know that 〃I am here！〃
When the sunlight pours like a flood over this strip of Paris； purifying and etherealizing the outlines； kindling answering lights here and there in the window panes； brightening the red tiles； flaming about the golden crosses； whitening walls and transforming the