And Claude, she shuddered when she thought of him. She loved him no longer. She saw the idol crumble to dust that she had supposed so grand and noble. She had almost deified him in her heart, but she must have been blinded by her love. She recalled their early married life. No, he was sincere and loyal in those days. Did she deceive herself, or did he deceive her? Her maid came in to say that M. Sirvin was at the door, wishing to see her a few minutes. She replied that he might enter, in a voice she tried in vain to control. Claude appeared pale and trembling. Elaine did not venture to even glance at him--innocence always shows more embarrassment than guilt. At last she raised her head, saying coldly, "I suppose Odette has told you that I know your cruel treachery." "Elaine!" She looked him full in the face, with an expression of such scorn that he dropped his eyes. She continued: "Here is my decision. If I only listened to my own contempt and disgust, I would leave the house this minute with my son. Unfortunately, we can not always follow our inclinations in this world. One victim, I hope, is enough for you. I do not wish to have the son's heart broken, as you have broken the mother's. Our life can continue as usual, we four under one roof. That is all I wish to say, so will detain you no longer." Claude stood in remorseful admiration before her. He gazed at her exquisite beauty, resembling in its stony pallor some antique statue. He saw the sublimity and strength of this noble character, and a sharp and strange regret overpowered him when he saw that he had lost her forever. Alas, for poor humanity! His keen regret caused him to forget Odette entirely, and only see Elaine in her sorrow. "Why do you not leave me?" said Elaine still more coldly, surprised that he did not move. "I am waiting your permission to say--" "There is nothing to be said. Go!" "But you are my wife. You loved me once--" She interrupted him with a glance. "Certainly; but I love you no longer." "Forgive me, but I must say one word. I will obey you, whatever you say. May I not see at least a glimmer of hope that some day when I have expiated my sin by penances, punishments without number, some day you will forgive me?" Seeing the cold scorn in her eyes he continued: "Very well. There are some crimes that only blood can wash away. I will kill myself." "It is too late for that! You should have killed yourself before, not after your crime." Pointing again to the door, he was forced to leave her. Claude was perfectly sincere in his appeal for a hope of pardon. His heart was elastic enough to hold two affections at the same time. His passionate love for Odette did not interfere with his tender, admiring affection for Elaine; and, besides, it cut him to the quick to meet scorn and contempt where he had always before found loving idolatry.