"Alas! my child, I meant it not reproachfully; it was but an involuntary cry of bitter triumph at finding how truly I foretold all this; my love for you did not mislead me as to the consequences of your marriage; but what fresh grievance have you met with?" "You are aware, that after the painful scene which took place here the very day after our arrival in Paris, Charles's temper became daily more soured, especially after the evening we went to the theatre together. Up to that period he had observed some restraint, he had even expressed regret at having acted so harshly towards you; but from the date of that unfortunate visit to the play, I say unfortunate, because the very next day fresh miseries broke out for me." "And yet you concealed them from me; wherefore did you not tell me when you came to visit me on Sunday?" "I feared so much to grieve you, but now my strength is exhausted, I can bear no more. Oh, if you only knew,--if you but knew!" "Take courage, my poor girl! take courage, explain yourself without fear; let your father know all." "Indeed, I will. Well, dearest father, after the night of our being together at the play, my husband, who had hitherto been irritable and violent, became gloomy, sullen, and unkind. I scarcely ever saw him, he was out all day, and only returned late at night, or rather morning; at meal-time, he was silent and abstracted, two or three times he left the dinner-table ere the cloth was withdrawn, and went to shut himself up in his own room. If I questioned him upon the vexations he appeared to have, he coldly replied, that it did not concern me, and frowned so angrily, that I durst not mention the subject again. This morning, however, seeing him look more cheerful than usual, I ventured to remark, 'You seem better to-day, Charles, than you have been lately that is all I said, dear father,--indeed, indeed it is. I did not utter another syllable--on my honour, I said no more than that." "Poor child! but go on!" "Immediately his features became overcast, and he exclaimed in a bitter tone, 'What is the use of my being better? what have I to hope for? if I could only look forward to any thing better than the wretched life I lead! But when I see you for ever before my eyes like a chain, to which I am eternally bound. Oh, accursed was the day in which I was weak enough to make you my wife, and to fall, like a fool, into the snare you and your father had laid for me." The old man repressed a movement of rage, then said in a firm voice, "And then, my child?" "This reproach, so cruel and so unexpected, took from me all power of reply, and I burst into tears, my husband rose violently from his chair, exclaiming, 'Oh, what a bitter lot is mine! oh, my liberty--my liberty!' and yet Heaven knows I never intrude upon him in any way, and the only thing I ask of him is permission to come and see you." "Oh, patience! grant me patience, Heaven!" cried the engraver, in a voice of forced calmness.