careful not to compromise herself in the recital.  She informed her of the presence of M. de Camors at the General’s house the night of his death.  She told her of the reports that were circulated, and mingling calumny with truth, redoubling at the same time her affection, her caresses, and her tears, she succeeded in giving Madame de Tecle such an estimate of the character of M. de Camors, that there were no suspicions or apprehensions which the poor woman, from that moment, did not consider legitimate as connected with him.

Madame de la Roche-Jugan finally offered to send Vautrot to her, that she might herself interrogate him.  Madame de Tecle, affecting an incredulity and a tranquillity she did not feel, refused and withdrew.

On her returning to her daughter, she forced herself to deceive her as to the impressions she had received, but she did not succeed; for her anxious face belied her reassuring words.  They separated the following night, mutually concealing the trouble and distress of their souls; but accustomed so long to think, feel, and suffer together, they met, so to speak, in the same reflections, the same reasonings, and in the same terrors.  They went over, in their memories, all the incidents of the life of Camors—­all his faults; and, under the shadow of the monstrous action imputed to him, his faults took a criminal character which they were surprised they had not seen before.  They discovered a series and a sequence in his designs, all of which were imputed to him as crimes—­even his good actions.  Thus his conduct during the last few months, his strange ways, his fancy for his child and for his wife, his assiduous tenderness toward her, were nothing more than the hypocritical meditation of a new crime—­a mask which he was preparing in advance.

What was to be done?  What kind of life was it possible to live in common, under the weight of such thoughts?  What present—­what future?  These thoughts bewildered them.  Next day Camors could not fail remarking the singular change in their countenances in his presence; but he knew that his servant, without thinking of harm, had spoken of his visit to Madame de Campvallon, and he attributed the coldness and embarrassment of the two women to this fact.  He was less disquieted at this, because he was resolved to keep them entirely safe.  As a result of his reflections during the night, he had determined to break off forever his intrigue with Madame de Campvallon.  For this rupture, which he had made it a point of honor not to provoke, Madame de Campvallon had herself furnished him a sufficient pretext.