"It is
very true that I was in the street," I thought, "but if I had known that
my mistress was as bad as she was, I would not have been there."
Finally I persuaded myself that I had not been seen distinctly; I
attempted to deny it. A deep blush suffused my face and I felt the
futility of my feint. Desgenais smiled.
"Take care," said he, "take care, do not go too far."
"But," I protested, "how did I know it, how could I know--"
Desgenais compressed his lips as though to say:
"You knew enough."
I stopped short, mumbling the remnant of my sentence. My blood became so
hot that I could not continue.
"I, in the street bathed in tears, in despair; and during that time that
encounter within! What! that very night! Mocked by her! Surely Desgenais
you are dreaming. Is it true? Can it be possible? What do you know about
it?"
Thus talking at random, I lost my head, and an irresistible feeling of
wrath began to rise within me. Finally I sat down exhausted.
"My friend," said Desgenais, "do not take the thing so seriously. The
solitary life you have been leading for the last two months has made you
ill, I see you have need of distraction. Come to supper with me this
evening, and to-morrow morning we will go to the country."
The tone in which he said this hurt me more than anything else; in vain I
tried to control myself. "Yes," I thought, "deceived by that woman,
poisoned by horrible suggestions, having no refuge either in work or in
fatigue, having for my only safeguard against despair and ruin, a sacred
but frightful grief.
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