When he began to talk about my wife, I ceased to listen to him. I thought of what he had told me of Nicette; he declared that she had been his mistress! could it be true? Ah! if I had not seen him in her shop, I would have spurned the idea as a ghastly lie. So it was impossible to find out what had become of her! Perhaps I should never see her again! That thought saddened me, and I could not banish it from my mind. My wife returned, having completed her toilet. Raymond offered her his arm; I motioned to Pélagie to accept it, as it was not customary for a wife to take her husband's arm when another gentleman offered his. If I had been in love with my wife, I would have snapped my fingers at such a custom; but, on the contrary, I was delighted to be able to go by myself and dream undisturbed. Raymond was enchanted to have on his arm a pretty woman who thought that everything that he said was charming. He went to the play with us, and carried the whole burden of the conversation. I did what I could to take part in it and to divert my thoughts; but, in spite of myself, I kept falling back upon my memories. Luckily, neither of them perceived it: my wife enjoyed the play and Raymond, and he was in ecstasies over what he said and what Pélagie replied. When the play was over, we all went home. Ah! how I longed then for a separate room! but I dared not suggest it. That day gave birth to a depression which I could not overcome. My wife said nothing, but I was very sure that she found Raymond much more attractive than me. What idiocy to bind one's self to a person whose sentiments have nothing in common with one's own! I said that to myself every day, and every day I spent a little less time with my wife. I left her to be amused by Raymond's conversation; and I went off to my little bachelor apartment, to think; often I wrote there, and read, and worked; I was so comfortable there! I let my thoughts stray back to happier days; to the days when I used to find bunches of orange blossoms hung at my door. Ah! how happy I might have been then! but I did not know enough to appreciate my good fortune. Not until those moments were past and gone forever did I realize all their worth! and when I left my little apartment to go back to the other, I regretted them more keenly than ever. XXXIV I SHOULD HAVE FORESEEN IT Whether we are sad or merry, happy or wretched, rich or poor, the Fates spin the web of our days none the less. Mine was no longer of silk and gold; but still the days passed; they seemed longer to me than if I had been happy; that was all the difference, and therein people who are fond of life should find some compensation; for years of sorrow count double.