“She heard the trot of his horse in the distance, and sat up with a start, and when he came into the room, she got up with the movements of a phantom, and pointed to the clock, as if to say to him:  ’Look how late it is!’

“And he began to be afraid of this amorous and jealous, half-witted woman, and flew into a rage, like brutes do; and one night, he even went so far as to strike her, so they sent for me.  When I arrived she was writhing and screaming, in a terrible crisis of pain, anger, passion, how do I know what?  Can one tell what goes on in such undeveloped brains?

“I calmed her by subcutaneous injections of morphine, and forbade her to see that man again, for I saw clearly that marriage would infallibly kill her, by degrees.”

* * * * *

“Then she went mad!  Yes, my dear friend, that idiot has gone mad.  She is always thinking of him and waiting for him; she waits for him all day and night, awake or asleep, at this very moment, ceaselessly.  When I saw her getting thinner and thinner, and as she persisted in never taking her eyes off the clocks, I had them removed from the house.  I thus made it impossible for her to count the hours, and to try to remember, from her indistinct reminiscences, at what time he used to come home, formerly.  I hope to destroy the recollection of it in time, and to extinguish that ray of thought which I kindled with so much difficulty.

“The other day, I tried an experiment.  I offered her my watch; she took it and looked at it for some time; then she began to scream terribly, as if the sight of that little object had suddenly aroused her recollection, which was beginning to grow indistinct.  She is pitiably thin now, with hollow cheeks and brilliant eyes, and she walks up and down ceaselessly, like a wild beast does in its cage; I have had bars put to the windows, and have had the seats fixed to the floor, so as to prevent her from looking to see whether he is coming.

“Oh! her poor parents!  What a life they must lead!”

We had got to the top of the hill, and the doctor turned round and said to me: 

“Look at Riom from here.”

The gloomy town looked like some ancient city.  Behind it, a green, wooded plain studded with towns and villages, and bathed in a soft blue haze, extended, until it was lost in the distance.  Far away, on my right, there was a range of lofty mountains with round summits, or else cut off flat, as if with a sword, and the doctor began to enumerate the villages, towns and hills, and to give me the history of all of them.  But I did not listen to him; I was thinking of nothing but the mad woman, and I only saw her.  She seemed to be hovering over that vast extent of country like a mournful ghost, and I asked him abruptly: 

“What has become of the husband?”

My friend seemed rather surprised, but after a few moments’ hesitation, he replied: