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tear upon his cheek； and went away to thank God in prayer。 The dear
soul； who was making a novena for Auguste's safety； believed her
prayers were answered。
〃Well；〃 said the vidame； 〃now you had better show yourself at the ball
you were speaking of。 I oppose no further objections。〃
CHAPTER III
THE WIFE ACCUSED
Monsieur de Maulincour was all the more anxious to go to this ball
because he knew that Madame Jules would be present。 The fete was given
by the Prefect of the Seine； in whose salons the two social worlds of
Paris met as on neutral ground。 Auguste passed through the rooms
without finding the woman who now exercised so mighty an influence on
his fate。 He entered an empty boudoir where card…tables were placed
awaiting players； and sitting down on a divan he gave himself up to
the most contradictory thoughts about her。 A man presently took the
young officer by the arm； and looking up the baron was stupefied to
behold the pauper of the rue Coquilliere； the Ferragus of Ida； the
lodger in the rue Soly； the Bourignard of Justin； the convict of the
police； and the dead man of the day before。
〃Monsieur； not a sound； not a word；〃 said Bourignard； whose voice he
recognized。 The man was elegantly dressed； he wore the order of the
Golden…Fleece； and a medal on his coat。 〃Monsieur；〃 he continued； and
his voice was sibilant like that of a hyena； 〃you increase my efforts
against you by having recourse to the police。 You will perish；
monsieur； it has now become necessary。 Do you love Madame Jules？ Are
you beloved by her？ By what right do you trouble her peaceful life；
and blacken her virtue？〃
Some one entered the card…room。 Ferragus rose to go。
〃Do you know this man？〃 asked Monsieur de Maulincour of the new…comer；
seizing Ferragus by the collar。 But Ferragus quickly disengaged
himself； took Monsieur de Maulincour by the hair； and shook his head
rapidly。
〃Must you have lead in it to make it steady？〃 he said。
〃I do not know him personally；〃 replied Henri de Marsay； the spectator
of this scene； 〃but I know that he is Monsieur de Funcal； a rich
Portuguese。〃
Monsieur de Funcal had disappeared。 The baron followed but without
being able to overtake him until he reached the peristyle； where he
saw Ferragus； who looked at him with a jeering laugh from a brilliant
equipage which was driven away at high speed。
〃Monsieur；〃 said Auguste； re…entering the salon and addressing de
Marsay； whom he knew； 〃I entreat you to tell me where Monsieur de
Funcal lives。〃
〃I do not know； but some one here can no doubt tell you。〃
The baron； having questioned the prefect； ascertained that the Comte
de Funcal lived at the Portuguese embassy。 At this moment； while he
still felt the icy fingers of that strange man in his hair； he saw
Madame Jules in all her dazzling beauty； fresh； gracious； artless；
resplendent with the sanctity of womanhood which had won his love。
This creature； now infernal to him； excited no emotion in his soul but
that of hatred； and this hatred shone in a savage； terrible look from
his eyes。 He watched for a moment when he could speak to her unheard；
and then he said：
〃Madame； your /bravi/ have missed me three times。〃
〃What do you mean； monsieur？〃 she said； flushing。 〃I know that you
have had several unfortunate accidents lately； which I have greatly
regretted； but how could I have had anything to do with them？〃
〃You knew that /bravi/ were employed against me by that man of the rue
Soly？〃
〃Monsieur！〃
〃Madame； I now call you to account； not for my happiness only； but for
my blood〃
At this instant Jules Desmarets approached them。
〃What are you saying to my wife； monsieur？〃
〃Make that inquiry at my own house； monsieur； if you are curious；〃
said Maulincour； moving away； and leaving Madame Jules in an almost
fainting condition。
There are few women who have not found themselves； once at least in
their lives； /a propos/ of some undeniable fact； confronted with a
direct； sharp； uncompromising question；one of those questions
pitilessly asked by husbands； the mere apprehension of which gives a
chill； while the actual words enter the heart like the blade of a
dagger。 It is from such crises that the maxim has come； 〃All women
lie。〃 Falsehood； kindly falsehood； venial falsehood； sublime
falsehood； horrible falsehood；but always the necessity to lie。 This
necessity admitted； ought they not to know how to lie well？ French
women do it admirably。 Our manners and customs teach them deception！
Besides； women are so naively saucy； so pretty； graceful； and withal
so true in lying；they recognize so fully the utility of doing so in
order to avoid in social life the violent shocks which happiness might
not resist；that lying is seen to be as necessary to their lives as
the cotton…wool in which they put away their jewels。 Falsehood becomes
to them the foundation of speech； truth is exceptional； they tell it；
if they are virtuous； by caprice or by calculation。 According to
individual character； some women laugh when they lie； others weep；
others are grave； some grow angry。 After beginning life by feigning
indifference to the homage that deeply flatters them； they often end
by lying to themselves。 Who has not admired their apparent superiority
to everything at the very moment when they are trembling for the
secret treasures of their love？ Who has never studied their ease；
their readiness； their freedom of mind in the greatest embarrassments
of life？ In them； nothing is put on。 Deception comes as the snow from
heaven。 And then； with what art they discover the truth in others！
With what shrewdness they employ a direct logic in answer to some
passionate question which has revealed to them the secret of the heart
of a man who was guileless enough to proceed by questioning！ To
question a woman！ why； that is delivering one's self up to her； does
she not learn in that way all that we seek to hide from her？ Does she
not know also how to be dumb； through speaking？ What men are daring
enough to struggle with the Parisian woman？a woman who knows how to
hold herself above all dagger thrusts； saying： 〃You are very
inquisitive； what is it to you？ Why do you wish to know？ Ah！ you are
jealous！ And suppose I do not choose to answer you？〃in short； a
woman who possesses the hundred and thirty…seven methods of saying
/No/； and incommensurable variations of the word /Yes/。 Is not a
treatise on the words /yes/ and /no/； a fine diplomatic； philosophic；
logographic； and moral work； still waiting to be written？ But to
accomplish this work； which we may also call diabolic； isn't an
androgynous genius necessary？ For that reason； probably； it will never
be attempted。 And besides； of all unpublished works isn't it the best
known and the best practised among women？ Have you studied the
behavior； the pose； the /disinvoltura/ of a falsehood？ Examine it。
Madame Desmarets was seated in the right…hand corner of her carriage；
her husband in the left。 Having forced herself to recover from her
emotion in the ballroom； she now affected a calm demeanor。 Her husband
had then said nothing to her； and he still said nothing。 Jules looked
out of the carriage window at the black walls of the silent houses
before which they passed； but suddenly； as if driven by a determining
thought； when turning the corner of a street he examined his wife； who
appeared to be cold in spite of the fur…lined pelisse in which she was
wrapped。 He thought she seemed pensive； and perhaps she really was so。
Of all communicable things； reflection and gravity are the most
contagious。
〃What could Monsieur de Maulincour have said to affect you so keenly？〃
said Jules； 〃and why does he wish me to go to his house and find out？〃
〃He can tell you nothing in his house that I cannot tell you here；〃
she replied。
Then； with that feminine craft which always slightly degrades virtue；
Madame Jules waited for another question。 Her husband turned his face
back to the houses； and continued his study of their walls。 Another
question would imply suspicion； distrust。 To suspect a woman is a
crime in love。 Jules had already killed a man for doubting his wife。
Clemence did not know all there was of true passion； of loyal
reflection； in her husband's silence； just as Jules was ignorant of
the generous drama that was wringing the heart of his Clemence。
The carriage rolled on through a silent Paris； bearing the couple；
two lovers who adored each other； and who； gently leaning on the same
silken cushion； were being parted by an abyss。 In these elegant coupes
returning from a ball between midnight and two in the morning； how
many curious and singular scenes must pass；meaning those coupes with
lanterns； which light both the street and the carriage； those with
their windows unshaded； in short； legitimate coupes； in which couples
can quarrel without caring for the eyes of pedestrians； because the
civil code gives a right to provoke； or beat； or kiss； a wife in a
carriage or elsewhere； anywhere； everywhere！ How many secrets must be
revealed in this way to nocturnal pedestrians；to those young fellows
who have gone to a ball in a carriage； but are obliged； for whatever
cause it may be； to retu