"You have made me a miserable wretch!" he cried in the depths of his wrathful heart; "you are the cause that I no longer esteem myself, that I no longer love my art, that I curse my mother's love, that I no longer believe in my strength of will, and that I have felt the shameful and idiotic thirst for suicide. You deserve that I should revenge myself on you, that I should go to you among your friends and reproach you with the destruction of my beliefs, my peace of mind and my dignity. I will do it, I will say it to you, I will trample you under my feet!" Then he thought of the future which Julie apparently had in mind for herself, and all the horrors of jealousy rose before him. He saw her in the arms of another, and he dreamed of the murder of his rival in every possible form. He went out into the country and walked at random. He found himself once more on the shore of the stream. The storm broke and the lightning struck a tall tree not far from him. He darted in that direction, hoping that another bolt would strike him. He roamed about in torrents of rain, unheeding, and did not return until daybreak, ashamed to be seen in that state of insanity. He slept two hours and woke completely crushed, horribly frightened by what had taken place within him, and resolved not to allow himself to be taken by storm again by a violent passion of which he had not hitherto realized the extreme danger. He had much difficulty in rising; he breakfasted with his mother. "I have always believed," he said to her, "that love, being the supreme blessing, should exalt us and sanctify us. I see now that love is the very acme of selfishness, and that it may make us bloodthirsty or idiotic. Love must be conquered; but love cannot be broken like a chain; it must be allowed to die out little by little." Julien had a violent attack of fever and delirium; his mother divined his suffering, and she too cursed poor Julie in her heart. Meanwhile Marcel had gone to see Julie. "Madame," he said, "you must return to your own house." "Never, my friend," she replied, with her heartrending sweetness; "I am very comfortable here, I live on my little income, I lack nothing, I am not unhappy, and unless you want to occupy this house----" "This house is not mine; I deceived you about it; but you are at liberty to remain here, unless, out of regard for Julien, you will consent to what I ask." "For Julien, you say? What do you mean?" "Julien knows where you are. He knows that you do not propose to see him again. He swears that he will not try to disobey you. He submits absolutely to a decision, of the reason for which he is ignorant. You have, therefore, no further cause for remaining in concealment." "Ah! very well," said Julie, with a bewildered air; "but in that case--where shall I go?" "To your house in Paris." "I no longer have a house."