Heturnedwhite，andfixedhiseyesonmeratherthanonthedamagingpieceofevidenceIthrustbeforethem。
　　“Mydear，“Iwenton，“thisisnotawhip；itisascreenbehindwhichyouarehidingsomethingfromme。“
　　ThereuponIgavemyselfthegratificationofwatchinghishopelessentanglementinthecovertsandlabyrinthsofdeceitandthedesperateeffortshemadetofindsomewallhemightscaleandthusescape。Invain；hehadperforcetoremainuponthefield，facetofacewithanadversary，whoatlastlaiddownherarmsinafeignedcomplacence。
　　Butitwastoolate。Thefatalmistake，againstwhichmymotherhadtriedtowarmme，wasmade。Myjealousy，exposedinallitsnakedness，hadledtowarandallitsstratagemsbetweenGastonandmyself。
　　Jealousy，dear，hasneithersensenordecency。
　　Imadeupmymindnowtosufferinsilence，buttokeepmyeyesopen，untilmydoubtswereresolvedonewayoranother。ThenIwouldeitherbreakwithGastonorbowtomymisfortune：nomiddlecourseispossibleforawomanwhorespectsherself。
　　Whatcanhebeconcealing？Forasecretthereis，andthesecrethastodowithawoman。Isitsomeyouthfulescapadeforwhichhestillblushes？Butifso，what？Theword/what/iswritteninlettersoffireonallIsee。Ireaditintheglassywaterofmylake，intheshrubbery，intheclouds，ontheceilings，attable，intheflowersofthecarpets。Avoicecriestome/what？/inmysleep。Datingfromthemorningofmydiscovery，acruelinteresthassprungintoourlives，andIhavebecomefamiliarwiththebitterestthoughtthatcancorrodetheheart——thethoughtoftreacheryinhimoneloves。Oh!mydear，thereisheavenandhelltogetherinsuchalife。NeverhadIfeltthisscorchingflame，Itowhomlovehadappearedonlyintheformofdevoutestworship。
　　“Soyouwishedtoknowthegloomytorture-chamberofpain!“Isaidtomyself。Good，thespiritsofevilhaveheardyourprayer；goonyourroad，unhappywretch!
　　May30th。
　　SincethatfataldayGastonnolongerworkswiththecarelesseaseofthewealthyartist，whoseworkismerelypastime；hesetshimselftaskslikeaprofessionalwriter。Fourhoursadayhedevotestofinishinghistwoplays。
　　“Hewantsmoney!“
　　Avoicewithinwhisperedthethought。Butwhy？Hespendsnexttonothing；wehaveabsolutelynosecretsfromeachother；thereisnotacornerofhisstudywhichmyeyesandmyfingersmaynotexplore。Hisyearlyexpendituredoesnotamounttotwothousandfrancs，andIknowthathehasthirtythousand，Icanhardlysaylaidby，butscatteredlooseinadrawer。Youcanguesswhatiscoming。Atmidnight，whilehewassleeping，Iwenttoseeifthemoneywasstillthere。Anicyshiverranthroughme。Thedrawerwasempty。
　　ThatsameweekIdiscoveredthathewenttoSevrestofetchhisletters，andtheselettershemusttearupimmediately；forthoughI
　　amaveryFigaroincontrivances，Ihaveneveryetseenatraceofone。Alas!mysweet，despitethefinepromisesandvowsbywhichI
　　boundmyselfafterthesceneofthewhip，animpulse，whichIcanonlycallmadness，drovemetofollowhiminoneofhisrapidridestothepost-office。Gastonwasappalledtobethusdiscoveredonhorseback，payingthepostageofaletterwhichheheldinhishand。Helookedfixedlyatme，andthenputspurstoFedelta。ThepacewassohardthatIfeltshakentobitswhenIreachedthelodgegate，thoughmymentalagonywassuchatthetimethatitmightwellhavedulledallconsciousnessofbodilypain。Arrivedatthegate，Gastonsaidnothing；herangthebellandwaitedwithoutaword。Iwasmoredeadthanalive。ImightbemistakenorImightnot，butinneithercasewasitfittingforArmande-Louise-MariedeChaulieutoplaythespy。I
　　hadsunktothelevelofthegutter，bythesideofcourtesans，opera-
　　dancers，merecreaturesofinstinct；eventhevulgarshop-girlorhumbleseamstressmightlookdownonme。
　　Whatamoment!Atlastthedooropened；hehandedhishorsetothegroom，andIalsodismounted，butintohisarms，whichwerestretchedouttoreceiveme。Ithrewmyskirtovermyleftarm，gavehimmyright，andwewalkedon——stillinsilence。Thefewstepswethustookmightbereckonedtomeforahundredyearsofpurgatory。AswarmofthoughtsbesetmeasIwalked，nowseemingtotakevisibleformintonguesoffirebeforemyeyes，nowassailingmymind，eachwithitsownpoisoneddart。Whenthegroomandthehorseswerefaraway，I
　　stoppedGaston，and，lookinghimintheface，said，asIpointed，withagesturethatyoushouldhaveseen，tothefatalletterstillinhisrighthand：
　　“MayIreadit？“
　　Hegaveittome。IopeneditandfoundaletterfromNathan，thedramaticauthor，informingGastonthataplayofhishadbeenaccepted，learned，rehearsed，andwouldbeproducedthefollowingSaturday。Healsoenclosedaboxticket。
　　Thoughformethiswastheopeningofheaven’sgatestothemartyr，yetthefiendwouldnotleavemeinpeace，butkeptcrying，“Wherearethethirtythousandfrancs？“Itwasaquestionwhichself-respect，dignity，allmyoldselfinfact，preventedmefromuttering。Ifmythoughtbecamespeech，Imightaswellthrowmyselfintothelakeatonce，andyetIcouldhardlykeepthewordsdown。Dearfriend，wasnotthisatrialpassingthestrengthofwoman？
　　Ireturnedtheletter，saying：
　　“MypoorGaston，youaregettingboreddownhere。LetusgobacktoParis，won’tyou？“
　　“ToParis？“hesaid。“Butwhy？IonlywantedtofindoutifIhadanygift，totastetheflowingbowlofsuccess!“
　　Nothingwouldbeeasierthanformetoransackthedrawersometimewhileheisworkingandpretendgreatsurpriseatfindingthemoneygone。Butthatwouldbegoinghalf-waytomeettheanswer，“Oh!myfriendSo-and-Sowashardup!“etc。，whichamanofGaston’squickwitwouldnothavefartoseek。
　　Themoral，mydear，isthatthebrilliantsuccessofthisplay，whichallParisiscrowdingtosee，isduetous，thoughthewholecreditgoestoNathan。Iamrepresentedbyoneofthetwostarsinthelegend：EtM**。Isawthefirstnightfromthedepthsofoneofthestageboxes。
　　July1st。
　　Gaston’sworkandhisvisitstoParisshallcontinue。Heispreparingnewplays，partlybecausehewantsapretextforgoingtoParis，partlyinordertomakemoney。Threeplayshavebeenaccepted，andtwomorearecommissioned。
　　Oh!mydear，Iamlost，allisdarknessaroundme。Iwouldsetfiretothehouseinamomentifthatwouldbringlight。Whatdoesitallmean？Isheashamedoftakingmoneyfromme？Heistoohigh-mindedforsotrumperyamattertoweighwithhim。Besides，scruplesofthekindcouldonlybetheoutcomeofsomeloveaffair。Amanwouldtakeanythingfromhiswife，butfromthewomanhehasceasedtocarefor，oristhinkingofdeserting，itisdifferent。Ifheneedssuchlargesums，itmustbetospendthemonawoman。Forhimself，whyshouldhehesitatetodrawfrommypurse？Oursavingsamounttoonehundredthousandfrancs!
　　Inshort，mysweetheart，Ihaveexploredawholecontinentofpossibilities，andaftercarefullyweighingalltheevidence，amconvincedIhavearival。Iamdeserted——forwhom？AtallcostsImustseetheunknown。
　　July10th。
　　Lighthascome，anditisalloverwithme。Yes，Renee，attheageofthirty，intheperfectionofmybeauty，withalltheresourcesofareadywitandtheseductivecharmsofdressatmycommand，Iambetrayed——andforwhom？Alarge-bonedEnglishwoman，withbigfeetandthickwaist——aregularBritishcow!Thereisnolongerroomfordoubt。
　　Iwilltellyouthehistoryofthelastfewdays。
　　Wornoutwithsuspicions，whichwerefedbyGaston’sguiltysilencefor，ifhehadhelpedafriend，whykeepitasecretfromme？，hisinsatiabledesireformoney，andhisfrequentjourneystoParis；
　　jealoustoooftheworkfromwhichheseemedunabletotearhimself，I
　　atlastmadeupmymindtotakecertainsteps，ofsuchadegradingnaturethatIcannottellyouaboutthem。SufficeittosaythatthreedaysagoIascertainedthatGaston，wheninParis，visitsahouseintheRuedelaVillel’Eveque，whereheguardshismistresswithjealousmystery，unexampledinParis。Theporterwassurly，andI
　　couldgetlittleoutofhim，butthatlittlewasenoughtoputanendtoanylingeringhope，andwithhopetolife。Onthispointmymindwasresolved，andIonlywaitedtolearnthewholetruthfirst。
　　WiththisobjectIwenttoParisandtookroomsinahouseexactlyoppositetheonewhichGastonvisits。ThenceIsawhimwithmyowneyesenterthecourtyardonhorseback。Toosoonaghastlyfactforceditselfonme。ThisEnglishwoman，whoseemstomeaboutthirty-six，isknownasMme。Gaston。Thisdiscoverywasmydeathblow。
　　IsawhimnextwalkingtotheTuilerieswithacoupleofchildren。Oh!
　　mydear，twochildren，thelivingimagesofGaston!Thelikenessissostrongthatitbearsscandalonthefaceofit。Andwhatprettychildren!intheirhandsomeEnglishcostumes!Sheisthemotherofhischildren。Hereisthekeytothewholemystery。
　　ThewomanherselfmightbeaGreekstatue，steppeddownfromsomemonument。Coldandwhiteasmarble，shemovessedatelywithamother’spride。Sheisundeniablybeautifulbutheavyasaman-of-war。Thereisnobreedingordistinctionabouther；nothingoftheEnglishlady。
　　Probablysheisafarmer’sdaughterfromsomewretchedandremotecountryvillage，or，itmaybe，theeleventhchildofsomepoorclergyman!
　　Ireachedhome，afteramiserablejourney，duringwhichallsortsoffiendishthoughtshadmeattheirmercy，withhardlyanylifeleftinme。Wasshemarried？Didheknowherbeforeourmarriage？Hadshebeendesertedbysomerichman，whosemistressshewas，andthusthrownbackuponGaston’shands？Conjectureswithoutendflittedthroughmybrain，asthoughconjecturewereneededinthepresenceofthechildren。
　　ThenextdayIreturnedtoParis，andbyafreeuseofmypurseextractedfromtheportertheinformationthatMme。Gastonwaslegallymarried。
　　Hisreplytomyquestiontooktheform，“Yes，/Miss/。“
　　July15th。
　　Mydear，myloveforGastonisstrongerthaneversincethatmorning，andhehaseveryappearanceofbeingstillmoredeeplyinlove。Heissoyoung!Ascoreoftimesithasbeenonmylips，whenweriseinthemorning，tosay，“ThenyoulovemebetterthantheladyoftheRuedelaVillel’Eveque？“ButIdarenotexplaintomyselfwhythewordsarecheckedonmytongue。
　　“Areyouveryfondofchildren？“Iasked。
　　“Oh，yes!“washisreply；“butchildrenwillcome!“
　　“Whatmakesyouthinkso？“
　　“Ihaveconsultedthebestdoctors，andtheyagreeinadvisingmetotravelforacoupleofmonths。“
　　“Gaston，“Isaid，“ifloveinabsencehadbeenpossibleforme，doyousupposeIshouldeverhavelefttheconvent？“
　　Helaughed；butasforme，dear，theword“travel“piercedmyheart。
　　Rather，farrather，wouldIleapfromthetopofthehousethanberolleddownthestaircase，stepbystep——Farewell，mysweetheart。I
　　havearrangedformydeathtobeeasyandwithouthorrors，butcertain。Imademywillyesterday。Youcancometomenow，theprohibitionisremoved。Come，then，andreceivemylastfarewell。I
　　willnotdiebyinches；mydeath，likemylife，shallbeartheimpressofdignityandgrace。
　　Good-bye，dearsistersoul，whoseaffectionhasneverwaverednorgrownweary，buthasbeentheconstanttendermoonlightofmysoul。Iftheintensityofpassionhasnotbeenours，atleastwehavebeenspareditsvenomousbitterness。Howrightlyyouhavejudgedoflife!
　　Farewell。