In the new country she feared at first that she had but exchanged parental despotism for marital tyranny.  But soon she perceived that nothing was changed that would affect her.  On the contrary, France, in the last decade of the Empire, was more corrupt than Russia’s chief towns and the dissoluteness, though not as coarse as at Munich, was more diffused.  Here she was assured that she could gratify her insatiable appetite at any moment.  She saw that the manners excused her; the laws guaranteed the unfaithful wife, and religion screened her; that the social atmosphere, despite slander and gossip, enveloped and preserved her; in short, it was clear that to a creature in whom wickedness developed like a plant in a hot-house, the freedom society accorded her was as delicious as that given by her husband in his trust and his devotion to art.

It seemed to her that, after the death of their first-born, his silence signified some contempt for her; in fact, she had, stupidly frank for once, expressed relief at this escape from the cares of maternity.  Did he suspect that she had, not with any repugnance, precipitated its death?  She feared this passionate man who, by strength of will, made himself calm, alarmed her more than an angry one would have done.  Moved by instinct, for she really felt that his sacrifice to her in marrying had condoned for his father’s blow at her ancestress, she tried to return him harm for good.  But it is not easy for a serpent to sting a rock.

Recovered from the slight eclipse of beauty during her experience as a mother, she endeavored to make him once again her worshiper.  But her tricks, her tears and her caresses seemed not to count as before when they fled from Von Sendlingen’s vengeance.  He remained so strictly the husband that she could perceive scarcely an atom of the lover.  Then she vowed to torture him:  he should no longer find a wife in her—­not even a woman, still less a lovely companion; she would implant in him intolerable longing and guard that he might not gratify it—­not even lull it on any side, while she would become a statue of marble to his most maddening advance.  He should have no more leisure for study, but be thrilled with the incessant and implacable sensation which relaxes the muscles, pales the blood, poisons the marrow, obscures reason, weakens the will and eats away the soul.

Unfortunately for her hideous project, it was in vain that she painted the lily of her cheeks and the carmine of her lips, studied useless arts of the toilet harder than a sage muses over nature’s secrets to benefit mankind, and was the peerless darling of three years ago.

He resisted her till she grew mad.

The progression of vice is such that while she believed she was simply at the degree of passion, she contemplated another crime.

She ruled the little household, for she had brought from Germany the girl Hedwig, who had been the tool of her grandmother; this silly and superstitious girl had gone once to the witch to have her fortune told and had never shaken off the bonds; these Cesarine took up and drove her by them.  She had led to the entrance of the girl under her roof ingeniously; Felix was cajoled into believing that she came rather on the hint of Fraulein Daniels, the Rebecca, of whom he often had agreeable and soothing memories in his distress.