The young woman tried to beguile the time by making plans for the future. She rejoiced in the approach of the season of fine weather; soon they might return to the pretty little place in the country. She had been so happy there in the early days of her married life that she looked forward to finding there once more the happiness that she had not found in Paris. Edouard would accompany her; he would have forgotten all his plans, have given up the business that tormented him, and have broken entirely with the perfidious Dufresne. Then nothing could disturb their felicity. Her mother would return to live with them; little Ermance would grow up and be educated under her parents’ eyes, learning to love and respect them. What a delightful future! How short the time would seem! how well it would be employed! Adeline’s heart thrilled with the pleasure caused by the delicious tableau which her imagination had conjured up. But the clock struck; she glanced at it and sighed; the image of happiness vanished, the melancholy reality returned! Thus do the unfortunate try to deceive their suffering, to conceal their grief from themselves. He who has lost a beloved sweetheart has her image constantly in his thoughts; he sees her, speaks to her, lives again with her in the past; he hears her voice, her sweet accents, her loving confession which makes his heart beat fast with bliss; he recalls those delicious interviews of which love bore the whole burden; he fancies that he holds his loved one’s hands in his; he seeks her burning lips from which he once stole the sweetest of kisses--but the illusion vanishes; she is no longer there! Ah! what a ghastly void! what a cruel return to life! Adeline was agitated by all these gleams of hope and fear; twenty times she went to her daughter’s cradle, then returned to her place at the window and listened anxiously, intently, for the faintest sound; but only the rumbling of an occasional carriage broke the silence of the night. Each time that she heard that noise, Adeline’s heart beat faster. It was her husband returning home; yes, it was he--the carriage was coming nearer; but it passed on, it did not stop. Adeline had watched many hours pass; the cold of the night and the weariness caused by her lonely vigil benumbed her senses. Despite her desire to wait for her husband, she felt that she could no longer resist the drowsiness that oppressed her. She decided at last to go to bed; but she placed Madame Dolban’s letter on her night table, so that she might have it at hand in order to be able to show it to her husband as soon as she saw him. From that priceless letter she anticipated peace of mind and happiness. She lighted the night lamp that she used every night. She went to bed at last--regretfully--and still tried to fight against sleep; but fatigue triumphed over anxiety; her eyelids drooped, she fell into a deep sleep.