He went into the dressing-room and brought out the bonnet.

“See,” he said, “your bonnet has betrayed you; these spots are raindrops.  You must, therefore, have gone out in a street cab, and these drops fell upon it as you went to find one, or as you entered or left the house where you went.  But a woman can leave her own home for many innocent purposes, even after she has told her husband that she did not mean to go out.  There are so many reasons for changing our plans!  Caprices, whims, are they not your right?  Women are not required to be consistent with themselves.  You had forgotten something,—­a service to render, a visit, some kind action.  But nothing hinders a woman from telling her husband what she does.  Can we ever blush on the breast of a friend?  It is not a jealous husband who speaks to you, my Clemence; it is your lover, your friend, your brother.”  He flung himself passionately at her feet.  “Speak, not to justify yourself, but to calm my horrible sufferings.  I know that you went out.  Well—­what did you do? where did you go?”

“Yes, I went out, Jules,” she answered in a strained voice, though her face was calm.  “But ask me nothing more.  Wait; have confidence; without which you will lay up for yourself terrible remorse.  Jules, my Jules, trust is the virtue of love.  I owe to you that I am at this moment too troubled to answer you:  but I am not a false woman; I love you, and you know it.”

“In the midst of all that can shake the faith of man and rouse his jealousy, for I see I am not first in your heart, I am no longer thine own self—­well, Clemence, even so, I prefer to believe you, to believe that voice, to believe those eyes.  If you deceive me, you deserve—­”

“Ten thousand deaths!” she cried, interrupting him.

“I have never hidden a thought from you, but you—­”

“Hush!” she said, “our happiness depends upon our mutual silence.”

“Ha!  I will know all!” he exclaimed, with sudden violence.

At that moment the cries of a woman were heard,—­the yelping of a shrill little voice came from the antechamber.

“I tell you I will go in!” it cried.  “Yes, I shall go in; I will see her!  I shall see her!”

Jules and Clemence both ran to the salon as the door from the antechamber was violently burst open.  A young woman entered hastily, followed by two servants, who said to their master:—­

“Monsieur, this person would come in in spite of us.  We told her that madame was not at home.  She answered that she knew very well madame had been out, but she saw her come in.  She threatened to stay at the door of the house till she could speak to madame.”

“You can go,” said Monsieur Desmarets to the two men.  “What do you want, mademoiselle?” he added, turning to the strange woman.