Then I saw my enemy running up to me with an expression of great anxiety on his face, and very pale. My seconds hastened to my side, seeing that I was wounded; but he pushed them aside and seized my wounded arm. His teeth were set and I could see that he was suffering intense anguish. His agony was the most frightful that man can experience. "Go!" he cried, "go dress your wound at the house of--" He choked, and so did I. I was placed in a cab where I found a physician. My wound was not dangerous, the bone being untouched, but I was in such a state of excitation that it was impossible to properly dress my wound. As they were about to drive from the field I saw a trembling hand at the door of my cab; it was my adversary. I shook my head in reply; I was in such a rage that I could not pardon him, although I felt that his repentance was sincere. By the time I reached home I had lost much blood and felt relieved, for feebleness saved me from the force of anger which was doing me more harm than my wound. I willingly retired to my bed and called for a glass of water, which I quickly swallowed with relish. But I was soon attacked by fever. It was then I began to shed tears. I could understand that my mistress had ceased to love me, but not that she could deceive me. I could not comprehend why a woman who was forced to it by neither duty nor interest could lie to one man when she loved another. Twenty times a day I asked my friend Desgenais how that could be possible. "If I were her husband," I said, "or if I supported her I could easily understand how she might be tempted to deceive me; but if she no longer loves me, why deceive me?" I did not understand how any one could lie for love; I was but a child then, but I confess that I do not understand it yet. Every time I have loved a woman I have told her of it, and when I ceased to love her I confessed it to her with the same sincerity, having always thought that in matters of this kind the will was not concerned and that there was no crime but falsehood. To all this Desgenais replied: "She is unworthy; promise me that you will never see her again." I solemnly promised. He advised me, moreover, not to write to her, not even to reproach her, and if she wrote to me not to reply. I promised all that with some surprise that he should consider it necessary to exact such a promise. Nevertheless the first thing I did when I was able to leave my room was to visit my mistress. I found her alone, seated in the corner of the room with an expression of sorrow on her face and an appearance of general disorder in her surroundings. I overwhelmed her with violent reproaches; I was intoxicated with despair. In a paroxysm of grief I fell on the bed and gave free course to my tears. "Ah! faithless one! wretch!" I cried between my sobs, "you knew that it would kill me. Did the prospect please you? What have I done to you?"