“Well, he believed himself in love; he made her no end of promises of fidelity, and was devoted to her.

“She was really attractive, gifted with that fashionable flippancy that little Parisians so readily affect.  She chattered, babbled, made foolish remarks that sounded witty from the manner in which they were uttered.  She used graceful gesture’s which were calculated to attract a painter’s eye.  When she raised her arms, when she bent over, when she got into a carriage, when she held out her hand to you, her gestures were perfect and appropriate.

“For three months Jean never noticed that, in reality, she was like all other models.

“He rented a little house for her for the summer at Andresy.

“I was there one evening when for the first time doubts came into my friend’s mind.

“As it was a beautiful evening we thought we would take a stroll along the bank of the river.  The moon poured a flood of light on the trembling water, scattering yellow gleams along its ripples in the currents and all along the course of the wide, slow river.

“We strolled along the bank, a little enthused by that vague exaltation that these dreamy evenings produce in us.  We would have liked to undertake some wonderful task, to love some unknown, deliciously poetic being.  We felt ourselves vibrating with raptures, longings, strange aspirations.  And we were silent, our beings pervaded by the serene and living coolness of the beautiful night, the coolness of the moonlight, which seemed to penetrate one’s body, permeate it, soothe one’s spirit, fill it with fragrance and steep it in happiness.

“Suddenly Josephine (that is her name) uttered an exclamation: 

“‘Oh, did you see the big fish that jumped, over there?’

“He replied without looking, without thinking: 

“‘Yes, dear.’

“She was angry.

“‘No, you did not see it, for your back was turned.’

“He smiled.

“’Yes, that’s true.  It is so delightful that I am not thinking of anything.’

“She was silent, but at the end of a minute she felt as if she must say something and asked: 

“‘Are you going to Paris to-morrow?’

“‘I do not know,’ he replied.

“She was annoyed again.

“’Do you think it is very amusing to walk along without speaking?  People talk when they are not stupid.’

“He did not reply.  Then, feeling with her woman’s instinct that she was going to make him angry, she began to sing a popular air that had harassed our ears and our minds for two years: 

“‘Je regardais en fair.’

“He murmured: 

“‘Please keep quiet.’

“She replied angrily: 

“‘Why do you wish me to keep quiet?’

“‘You spoil the landscape for us!’ he said.

“Then followed a scene, a hateful, idiotic scene, with unexpected reproaches, unsuitable recriminations, then tears.  Nothing was left unsaid.  They went back to the house.  He had allowed her to talk without replying, enervated by the beauty of the scene and dumfounded by this storm of abuse.