He still thought it necessary to assume towards his wife a tone less harsh than usual, in order to make her decide on allowing herself to be presented to the Princess de Hansfeld. Bertha visited but very little, she was so very timid; and thus, anticipating some difficulties on her part, he preferred overcoming them by mildness, as his threats would be vain before the obstinate refusal of his wife. She so little expected her husband's visit, that she was giving free vent to her tears at the recollection that she should never again see M. de Hansfeld. For the first time she felt the full force and extent of her love. She had courage enough to refrain from cursing this cruel separation, when she reflected on the trouble in which a guilty passion might involve her existence. No longer seeing Arnold, she would be, at least, out of the reach of that danger. Such a consolation always costs many tears, and thus this young lady had hardly time to dry her eyes before her husband was by her side. Bertha had sufficient resolution not to surprise M. de Brévannes by the sight of her tears, but yet they annoyed him, for the transition was rather extreme to begin talking to his wife of the pleasures of the world and her presentation to Madame de Hansfeld. Repressing, however, a feeling of impatience, he said, in a gentle tone, to Bertha, and affecting not to see her chagrin (as thereby he could more rapidly open on his own desire),-- "Pardon me, my love, I disturb you." "No, no, Charles, you do not at all disturb me," said Bertha, wiping away the fresh tears that sprung to her eyes, and which she considered as reproaches for her fault. "Have you seen your father to-day?" "Yes; you gave me leave to go there when I----" "Oh," said De Brévannes, interrupting Bertha, "I am not reproaching you! I do not like your father's temper, and I could not possibly live with him; but I do justice to his frankness of character, the austerity of his principles, and I am perfectly content when I know you are with him." Bertha had nothing to reproach herself withal, and yet her heart smote her as if she had abused her husband's confidence, when, for the first time for a long while, he spoke kindly to her, and she looked down and made no reply. De Brévannes proceeded,-- "Then these visits to your father are your only amusement since our return to Paris. With the exception of that first night at the Français, you have been nowhere; I really must draw you from your solitude." "You are too kind, Charles. You know I do not like society, I have been so long accustomed to the life I lead; therefore, I pray you not to occupy yourself with what you call my amusements." "Come, come, you are a child, and must let me think and decide for you in this matter: you will not repent it." "But, Charles----"