From that period Eudora simply treated me with the courtesy of a lady.  She never looked in my face,—­her eyes never met mine.  On my part, to carry out a plan I had adopted, I encouraged more and more the visits of Alphonse.  He had expected to leave that week; but I persuaded him to remain another month, and pressed him to stay at my house.  I told him that this would be agreeable to my wife, who could have his society when I was not able to be with her, and I should insist on his accepting my invitation.  This was after I saw how rebellious, as I termed it, Eudora was becoming; and I was determined to torture her all I could.  Alphonse was now an inmate of our house, which greatly increased the opportunities for his being with Eudora.  She appeared to enjoy intercourse with him just as usual; I think, in fact, she did enjoy it more than usual; and it made me hate her to see that she was not repentant and miserable.  Three weeks passed in this way;—­I becoming more hateful and severe by every petty, petulant, despicable device of which my nature was capable; she continuing with little change of manner or conduct; and Alphonse unconsciously growing more devoted.

It was a cold, stormy afternoon:  the rain had increased since morning.  Eudora had gone out immediately after breakfast.  She did not come back to dinner, and Alphonse, who had remained in all day, said she spoke of going to my cousin’s.  I took it for granted the storm detained her; but when it was evening and she did not appear, I began to be disturbed and asked Alphonse to go for her.  In a short time he returned with the information that Eudora had not been at my cousin’s that day.  I was alarmed; I could see the shadow of my Nemesis close by me.  It had fallen suddenly, and with no warning.  For a moment I suspected Alphonse; but the distress he manifested was too genuine to be counterfeited, and I dismissed the thought.  In the midst of this confusion and dismay,—­now late in the evening,—­a letter was put into my hands, just left by a messenger at my door.  The address was in my wife’s hand.  I tore open the envelope, and read,—­

“Man!  I can endure no longer.”

This was the end of the chapter beginning with my introduction to the strolling Savoyards, the dance of the marionnette, the transfer of Eudora!  I attempted no search for her; too well I knew it would be useless; indeed, I felt a strange sense of freedom.  My professor’s life disgusted me:  I threw it off.  I resigned my chair, and sold my house, my furniture, my books,—­everything.  My nature clamored for indulgence, my senses for enjoyment.  I quitted the place.  I threw off all restraint.  Literally I let myself loose on the world.  I sought the company of the young.  I drank, I gamed, I was as debauched as the worst.  But although with them, I was not of them. They—­only from the effervescence of strong animal spirits did they do into excesses.  What they did was without reflection, impulsive, unpremeditated. Me a calm consciousness pervaded always.  Go where I would, do what I would, amidst every criminal indulgence, every noisy debauch or riotous dissipation, it always rode the storm and was present in the fury of the tempest;—­that fearful, awful conscious Egomet!  How I wished I could commit one impulsive sin!