In the light of the terrible sentence, Olivier's strange attitude since his arrival in Cannes became quite comprehensible with a frightful clearness. Indications to which Pierre had paid no attention crowded pell-mell into his memory. He recalled glances his friend had cast at him, his sudden silence, his half confidences, his allusions. All invaded his recollection like a flood of certainty. It mounted to his brain, which was stupefied by the fumes of a grief as strong and intense as though by the influence of some poisonous alcohol. As his horse was walking up the steep incline of Urie he met Yvonne de Chésy. He did not recognize her, and even when she called to him he did not hear her. She made a sign to the driver to stop, and laughing, even in all her trouble, she said to the unhappy youth:-- "I wanted to know if you had met my husband, who was to have met me. But I see that a herd of elephants might have gone by without your seeing them! You are going to call upon Ely? You will find Du Prat there. He even deigned to recognize me." Although Pierre had not the least doubt that Olivier was at Madame de Carlsberg's, this fresh evidence, gathered by pure chance, seemed to break his heart. A few minutes later he saw the roofs and the terraces of the villa. Then he came, to the garden. The sight of the hedge he had passed through only the night before with so much loving confidence, so much longing desire, completed the destruction of all the reason that remained to him. He felt that in his present state of semi-madness it was impossible for him to see his friend and his mistress face to face with each other without dying with pain. This was why Olivier found him, awaiting his arrival, at a turn of the road, livid with a terrible pallor, his physiognomy changed, his eyes gleaming madly. The situation of the two friends was so tragic, it presaged so painful an interview, that both felt they could not, that they must not, enter into an explanation there. Olivier got into the carriage as though nothing were amiss, and took the vacant place. As he felt the contact of his friend, Pierre shivered, but recovered himself immediately. He said to the coachman:-- "Drive to the hotel quickly." Then, turning to Du Prat, he continued:-- "I came for you because your wife is very ill." "Berthe?" cried Olivier. "Why, when I left her this morning she seemed so cheerful and well!" "She told me where you were," went on Hautefeuille, avoiding a more direct reply. "By accident she has found among your papers a photograph taken in Rome and bearing a striking signature. She heard some one mention this name here. She at once came to the conclusion that the person bearing the name, and who lives at Cannes, was the original of the portrait from Rome. She discovered the torn fragments of some letters in which the same name occurred, and in which you asked for a rendezvous. In fact, she knows all." "And you also?" asked Olivier, after a silence.