fully as much as injury.  When she was a little recovered and her mental power began to return, she had only a vague recollection of what had occurred, and thought she had had a frightful dream.  She asked if Pierre Guerre had been to see her, and found he had not been near the house.  This could only be explained by the scene which had taken place, and she then recollected all the accusation Pierre had made, her own observations which had confirmed it, all her grief and trouble.  She inquired about the village news.  Pierre, evidently, had kept silence why?  Had he seen that his suspicions were unjust, or was he only seeking further evidence?  She sank back into her cruel uncertainty, and resolved to watch Martin closely, before deciding as to his guilt or innocence.

How was she to suppose that God had created two faces so exactly alike, two beings precisely similar, and then sent them together into the world, and on the same track, merely to compass the ruin of an unhappy woman!  A terrible idea took possession of her mind, an idea not uncommon in an age of superstition, namely, that the Enemy himself could assume human form, and could borrow the semblance of a dead man in order to capture another soul for his infernal kingdom.  Acting on this idea, she hastened to the church, paid for masses to be said, and prayed fervently.  She expected every day to see the demon forsake the body he had animated, but her vows, offerings, and prayers had no result.  But Heaven sent her an idea which she wondered had not occurred to her sooner.  “If the Tempter,” she said to herself, “has taken the form of my beloved husband, his power being supreme for evil, the resemblance would be exact, and no difference, however slight, would exist.  If, however, it is only another man who resembles him, God must have made them with some slight distinguishing marks.”

She then remembered, what she had not thought of before, having been quite unsuspicious before her uncle’s accusation, and nearly out of her mind between mental and bodily suffering since.  She remembered that on her husband’s left shoulder, almost on the neck, there used to be one of those small, almost imperceptible, but ineffaceable birthmarks.  Martin wore his hair very long, it was difficult to see if the mark were there or not.  One night, while he slept, Bertrande cut away a lock of hair from the place where this sign ought to be—­it was not there!

Convinced at length of the deception, Bertrande suffered inexpressible anguish.  This man whom she had loved and respected for two whole years, whom she had taken to her heart as a husband bitterly mourned for—­this man was a cheat, an infamous impostor, and she, all unknowing, was yet a guilty woman!  Her child was illegitimate, and the curse of Heaven was due to this sacrilegious union.  To complete the misfortune, she was already expecting another infant.  She would have killed herself, but her religion and the love of her children forbade it.  Kneeling before her child’s cradle, she entreated pardon from the father of the one for the father of the other.  She would not bring herself to proclaim aloud their infamy.