"I was looking for you," he said to his wife. Seeing Philippe, his face darkened. The day before at Mme. de Passerat's luncheon party, it had been unbearable to him that Elizabeth's charm should be felt by anyone but himself, and after trying impatiently to remain away until the following day, he could not finish his work without going to Saint Martin to see her again. He found her somewhat troubled, with the letter in her hand. Philippe, after a few words, rose and took leave of Elizabeth. "I shall follow your advice, Madame." He shook hands with his friend, whom he would not allow to accompany him. As soon as he had gone, Albert came over to his wife, and harshly inquired: "What advice did he want? Am I indiscreet?" "He was telling me about his marriage." "With Mlle. Rivière?" "Yes." "Poor girl!" "Why?" "Because he loves you." He did not notice how deeply this remark touched her. She stopped him reproachfully: "Albert!" "He confessed to me that he was devoted to you. Yes, he was the first to understand you. He realized that inner force which I had never been able to awaken. I am jealous of him, horribly jealous, not because I suspect you of ever having given him a word of encouragement--no suspicion could touch you when you were alone and abandoned--but because I do not acknowledge that another can know you and love you more than I do now." "Albert," she murmured distractedly. "I ought to fall on my knees before you, and at other times I long to clasp you to my heart and blot out those years which have blighted our love." Trembling, swayed by her exaltation, she repeated: "Albert!" Misunderstanding her manner, he raised his arms in despair: "Ah! I make you afraid--I see it in your eyes. But I do not dare to touch even the tips of your fingers. Since I have returned here, even when we are side by side, there is an abyss between us which we do not know how to cross. Elizabeth, Elizabeth, I am so unhappy." Overwhelmed, she wanted to come to him, and the letter which she had forgotten, fell to the ground. He stooped mechanically to pick it up and give it to her. Confused, she took it from his hand. He had not even seen the writing, but Elizabeth's emotion was diverted. "Farewell!" said he brusquely, and realizing she was repressed, he hurriedly left the orchard and rushed to the road. "Albert!" she cried, as she followed him. Nightfall, which was coming on, hid him. A name, which they had never dared to utter, was sufficient to separate them. Neither distance nor space could do away with the past. Anne de Sézery was always there, between them. VI THE CHARTREUSE OF PRÉMOL Elizabeth waited a week for another visit from Albert after that strange scene of jealousy. Each morning, at the usual time of his arrival, she took her children to the road, as far as the beginning of the path which encircles the Château of Saint-Ferriol, and winds through the meadows to Uriage.