Hector made a sudden movement, and turned around as if he was surprised by an unwonted noise.  What was it?  Sauvresy only knew too well.  Another shadow appeared on the curtain—­that of Bertha.  And he had forced himself to doubt till now!  Now proofs had come without his seeking.  What had brought her to that room, at that hour?  She seemed to be talking excitedly.  He thought he could hear that full, sonorous voice, now as clear as metal, now soft and caressing, which had made all the chords of passion vibrate in him.  He once more saw those beautiful eyes which had reigned so despotically over his heart, and whose expressions he knew so well.  But what was she doing?  Doubtless she had gone to ask Hector something, which he refused her, and she was pleading with him; Sauvresy saw that she was supplicating, by her motions; he knew the gesture well.  She lifted her clasped hands as high as her forehead, bent her head, half shut her eyes.  What languor had been in her voice when she used to say: 

“Say, dear Clement, you will, will you not?”

And now she was using the same blandishments on another.  Sauvresy was obliged to support himself against a tree.  Hector was evidently refusing what she wished; then she shook her finger menacingly, and tossed her head angrily, as if she were saying: 

“You won’t?  You shall see, then.”

And then she returned to her supplications.

“Ah,” thought Sauvresy, “he can resist her prayers; I never had such courage.  He can preserve his coolness, his will, when she looks at him; I never said no to her; rather, I never waited for her to ask anything of me; I have passed my life in watching her lightest fancies, to gratify them.  Perhaps that is what has ruined me!”

Hector was obstinate, and Bertha was roused little by little; she must be angry.  She recoiled, holding out her arms, her head thrown back; she was threatening him.  At last he was conquered; he nodded, “Yes.”  Then she flung herself upon him, and the two shadows were confounded in a long embrace.

Sauvresy could not repress an agonized cry, which was lost amid the noises of the night.  He had asked for certainty; here it was.  The truth, indisputable, evident, was clear to him.  He had to seek for nothing more, now, except for the means to punish surely and terribly.  Bertha and Hector were talking amicably.  Sauvresy saw that she was about to go downstairs, and that he could not now go for the letter.  He went in hurriedly, forgetting, in his fear of being discovered, to lock the garden door.  He did not perceive that he had been standing with naked feet in the snow, till he had returned to his bedroom again; he saw some flakes on his slippers, and they were damp; quickly he threw them under the bed, and jumped in between the clothes, and pretended to be asleep.

It was time, for Bertha soon came in.  She went to the bed, and thinking that he had not woke up, returned to her embroidery by the fire.  Tremorel also soon reappeared; he had forgotten to take his paper, and had come back for it.  He seemed uneasy.