“After passing only a fortnight in the country, your wife returned to Paris. She hired a handsome apartment on Rue d’Antin. She has been going into society and has indulged in amusements of all sorts. She dresses with the greatest elegance; she is seen at the theatre, at balls, and at concerts. However, she returns often to the country, passes a few days there, and then comes back here. The night before last I saw her at Madame de Saint-Albin’s reception.” “You saw her?” “Yes; there were a great many people there. When I arrived, she was at a card table. She was talking very loud, and laughing; attracted by her loud voice, I walked in that direction. When she caught sight of me, my eyes were fixed upon her; she turned hers away, and a great change came over her face; her brow darkened, she stopped talking, and soon left the table.” “Did you speak to her?” “No, I had no wish to; and for her part I think that she was no more anxious than I, for she carefully avoided meeting my eyes. She went away while I was still looking for her in the salon; I believe that my presence was the cause of her going.” “Were not you at this reception, madame?” I asked Madame Ernest. “Oh, no, Monsieur Henri! you know that people do not invite me; I am not married.” It seemed to me that as she said this the little woman sighed and glanced furtively at Ernest. After a moment she continued: “However, if I were married, I should not care any more about going into society! The little that I have seen of it has not made me love it.” “My dear love,” said Ernest, “we should go into society as we go to the theatre, not to please others but to enjoy ourselves; when the play is tiresome, you are not compelled to stay to the end.” “And Monsieur Dulac?” I said after a moment; “you have not mentioned him, Ernest. Don’t be afraid to tell me what you know. I suppose that he is more devoted than ever to Madame Blémont.” “You are mistaken; he had no sooner recovered from his wound, and that was not long ago, than he went on a journey; I am told that he has gone to Italy.” I confess that that news pleased me. And yet what did it matter to me now whether it was Dulac or some other man who was attentive to Madame Blémont, as I should have nothing more in common with that woman? Madame Blémont! She still called herself so, Ernest assured me. I hoped that she would have resumed her mother’s name. Was it not cruel to be unable to take one’s name away from a woman who dishonored it? If Madame Blémont should have other children, they too would bear my name and would share my property. Was that justice? But divorce was prohibited, because it was considered immoral! Oh! of course it is much more moral to leave to a guilty wife the name of the husband whom she abandons, and to strange children a title and property to which they have no right!