“Oh, when I see Louise in possession of a lover,” she replied, “when I know that I am taking nothing away from her, and that she has nothing to regret in losing your affection; when I am quite sure that you love her no longer, and have obtained certain proof of your indifference towards her—­Oh, then I may listen to you!—­These words must seem odious to you,” she continued in an earnest voice; “and so indeed they are, but do not think that they have been pronounced by me.  I am the rigorous mathematician who makes his deductions from a preliminary proposition.  You are married, and do you deliberately set about making love to some one else?  I should be mad to give any encouragement to a man who cannot be mine eternally.”

“Demon!” exclaimed the husband.  “Yes, you are a demon, and not a woman!”

“Come now, you are really amusing!” said the young woman as she seized the bell-rope.

“Oh! no, Emilie,” continued the lover of forty, in a calmer voice.  “Do not ring; stop, forgive me!  I will sacrifice everything for you.”

“But I do not promise you anything!” she answered quickly with a laugh.

“My God!  How you make me suffer!” he exclaimed.

“Well, and have not you in your life caused the unhappiness of more than one person?” she asked.  “Remember all the tears which have been shed through you and for you!  Oh, your passion does not inspire me with the least pity.  If you do not wish to make me laugh, make me share your feelings.”

“Adieu, madame, there is a certain clemency in your sternness.  I appreciate the lesson you have taught me.  Yes, I have many faults to expiate.”

“Well then, go and repent of them,” she said with a mocking smile; “in making Louise happy you will perform the rudest penance in your power.”

They parted.  But the love of the baron was too violent to allow of
Madame B-----’s harshness failing to accomplish her end, namely, the
separation of the married couple.

At the end of some months the Baron de V----- and his wife lived
apart, though they lived in the same mansion.  The baroness was the
object of universal pity, for in public she always did justice to her
husband and her resignation seemed wonderful.  The most prudish women
of society found nothing to blame in the friendship which united
Louise to the young Rostanges.  And all was laid to the charge of
Monsieur de V-----’s folly.

When this last had made all the sacrifices that a man could make for
Madame B-----, his perfidious mistress started for the waters of Mount
Dore, for Switzerland and for Italy, on the pretext of seeking the
restoration of her health.

The baron died of inflammation of the liver, being attended during his sickness by the most touching ministrations which his wife could lavish upon him; and judging from the grief which he manifested at having deserted her, he seemed never to have suspected her participation in the plan which had been his ruin.