“‘My dear fellow,’ he said, ’I must go out directly afterwards on business, and I shall not be back until eleven o’clock, but I shall be at eleven precisely, and I reckon you to keep Bertha company.’

“The young woman smiled.

“‘It was my idea,’ she said, ‘to send for you.’

“I held out my hand to her.

“‘You are as nice as ever,’ I said, and I felt a long, friendly pressure of my fingers, but I paid no attention to it; so we sat down to dinner, and at eight o’clock Julien went out.

“As soon as he had gone, a kind of strange embarrassment immediately seemed to arise between his wife and me.  We had never been alone together yet, and in spite of our daily increasing intimacy, this tete-a-tete placed us in a new position.  At first I spoke vaguely of those indifferent matters with which one fills up an embarrassing silence, but she did not reply, and remained opposite to me with her head down in an undecided manner, as if she were thinking over some difficult subject, and as I was at a loss for commonplace ideas, I held my tongue.  It is surprising how hard it is at times to find anything to say.

“And then, again, I felt in the air, I felt in the unseen, something which is impossible for me to express, that mysterious premonition which tells you beforehand of the secret intentions, be they good or evil, of another person with respect to yourself.

“That painful silence lasted some time, and then Bertha said to me: 

“‘Will you kindly put a log on the fire, for it is going out.’

“So I opened the box where the wood was kept, which was placed just where yours is, took out the largest log, and put it on the top of the others, which were three-parts burnt, and then silence reigned in the room again.

“In a few minutes the log was burning so brightly that it scorched our faces, and the young woman raised her eyes to me—­eyes that had a strange look to me.

“‘It is too hot now,’ she said; ’let us go and sit on the sofa over there.’

“So we went and sat on the sofa, and then she said suddenly, looking me full in the face: 

“’What should you do if a woman were to tell you that she was in love with you?’

“‘Upon my word,’ I replied, very much at a loss for an answer, ’I cannot foresee such a case; but it would very much depend upon the woman.’

“She gave a hard, nervous, vibrating laugh; one of those false laughs which seem as if they must break thin glasses, and then she added:  ’Men are never either venturesome nor acute.’  And after a moment’s silence, she continued:  ‘Have you ever been in love, Monsieur Paul?’ I was obliged to acknowledge that I certainly had been, and she asked me to tell her all about it, whereupon I made up some story or other.  She listened to me attentively with frequent sighs of approbation and contempt, and then suddenly she said: 

“’No, you understand nothing about the subject.  It seems to me, that real love must unsettle the mind, upset the nerves and distract the head; that it must—­how shall I express it?—­be dangerous, even terrible, almost criminal and sacrilegious; that it must be a kind of treason; I mean to say that it is almost bound to break laws, fraternal bonds, sacred obstacles; when love is tranquil, easy, lawful and without dangers, is it really love?’