“‘Now,’ said I to myself, ’there is an end to coquetry, it is beaten on all sides; it is gone, never to return.  She has seen that the affair is a little too deep for that, and the field not tenable.  She will erect barriers in order to defend herself and will no longer attack.’  Thus we pass from the period of amiable smiles, sweet glances, and half-avowals to that of severity and prudery, while waiting for the remorse and despair of the denouement.  I am sure that at this time she called to her help all her powers of resistance.  From that day she would retreat behind the line of duty, conjugal fidelity, honor, and all the other fine sentiments which would need numbering after the fashion of Homer.  At the first attack, all this household battalion would make a furious sortie; should I succeed in overthrowing them and take up my quarters in the trenches, there would then be a gathering of the reserve force, and boiling oil or tar would rain upon my head, representing virtue, religion, heaven, and hell.”

“A sort of conjugal earthquake,” interrupted Marillac.

“I calculated the strength and approximate duration of these means of defence.  The whole thing appeared to me only a question of time, a few days or weeks at most—­so long on the husband’s account, so long on the father confessor’s account.  I deserved to be boxed on the ears for my presumption; I was.

“A combat is necessary in order to secure a victory.  In spite of all my efforts and ruses, it was not possible for me to fight this combat; I did not succeed, in spite of all my challenges, in shattering, as I expected, this virtuous conjugal fortress.  Madame de Bergenheim still persisted in her systematic reserve, with incredible prudence and skill.  During the remainder of the winter, I did not find more than one opportunity of speaking to her alone.  As I was a permanent fixture every evening in her aunt’s parlors, she entered them only when other guests were there.  She never went out alone, and in every place where I was likely to meet her I was sure to find a triple rampart of women erected between us, through which it was impossible to address one word to her.  In short, I was encountering a desperate resistance; and, yet, she loved me!  I could see her cheeks gradually grow pale; her brilliant eyes often had dark rings beneath them, as if sleep had deserted her.  Sometimes, when she thought she was not observed, I surprised them fastened upon me; but she immediately turned them away.

“She had been coquettish and indifferent; she was now loving but virtuous.

“Spring came.  One afternoon I went to call upon Mademoiselle de Corandeuil, who had been ill for several days.  I was received, however, probably through some mistake of the servants.  As I entered the room I saw Madame de Bergenheim; she was alone at her embroidery, seated upon a divan.  There were several vases of flowers in the windows, whose curtains only permitted a soft, mysterious light to penetrate the room.  The perfume from the flowers, the sort of obscurity, the solitude in which I found her, overcame me for a moment; I was obliged to pause in order to quiet the beating of my heart.