"Upon my life," cried M. de Brévannes, interrupting his wife, "some persons possess the happy art of making their looks, and even silence, more expressive than words themselves." "Alas, Charles, it is not always possible to prevent myself from being sad!" "And wherefore should you be so? Do you want for any thing?--are you not elevated to a rank and station you never could have ventured to hope for?--have I not done all that human ability admits for you?" "Charles, you well know I am not unmindful of all your benefits; my only regret is that I cannot better prove my gratitude to you." "Yet all I require of you is simply to render my home agreeable to me, and to put on a smiling look of happiness instead of perpetually censuring my conduct by your melancholy and other affectations. If I thought fit to indulge my inclinations by marrying you, it was because, first, I was in love, and, secondly----" "To have a wife submissive to your commands--I am perfectly sensible of that. You preferred me to a richer bride, because gratitude for the sacrifice you had made for me would necessarily render my duties still more binding and sacred in my eyes; and I should have been extremely sorry had you not so considered it, as it would have left me no means of repaying you for your kindness. But let me assure you, Charles, that you are greatly mistaken in ascribing my sadness (which is frequently involuntary) to any desire on my part to criticise your actions, which it becomes not me to question." "But what is the meaning of this sadness?" After a moment's hesitation, Bertha, with downcast eyes, replied,-- "There may be among your actions some that render me sad, without my venturing to complain of them." "Upon my word, you are too deep a casuist for me! Come now, I will render the subject more clear, and disclose to you what your real thoughts are, though you dare not own them even to yourself. Why, instead of employing all these hypocritical circumlocutions, can you not come boldly to the point, and candidly confess that jealousy is the main-spring of your conduct?" "Let me beseech you not to refer to that." "And why not? On the contrary, I consider it most advantageous to weigh well our present position in all its relative bearings. And first, for the grand question you long to propose, but dare not, have I, or have I not, mistresses to occupy my time and thoughts? Now, that is the very thing of which you ought either to be entirely ignorant, or, at least, to feign ignorance. Such would be the conduct of a sensible woman, instead of tormenting herself to death with ridiculous jealousy." "Charles, is it for you to assert that we may reason ourselves out of such a feeling as jealousy, no matter however unfounded, or whether the object that excites it be worthy or otherwise?" "Capital, indeed, madam! Then it seems you accuse me of being jealous?"