The count, however, was mistaken in thinking that his wife had not recognized him; in the first place, ladies have a glance which carries much farther than ours; and then time, which had wrought such changes in her, seemed to have treated her husband with respect; in fact, as he had very strongly-marked features, and a face which had always been serious, even grave, he had seemed older than he really was when he might still have been ranked with young men; and so time had aged him less, and except for his hair, which had turned gray, and for some few deep wrinkles on his forehead, he had changed very little. So that Madame de Grangeville had recognized her husband in the person whom Madame Glumeau had pointed out as Monsieur Malberg; a single glance had sufficed to make her certain of the truth. Then she had sat a long while without turning her head; she hoped that her husband did not see her, and yet she was burning with the longing to know if he had seen her. As a woman is not in the habit of resisting curiosity, she turned her head once more in the direction where the count was; it was then that their eyes met; in despair because she had shown herself, and having no doubt that her husband had recognized her, Madame de Grangeville wished that she were a hundred leagues away; and yet, when she sat trembling in her chair and the other guests had left the wood, she was so perturbed that she had not strength to walk, and she was utterly at a loss what course to pursue. Several minutes passed after all the others had gone. Nothing could be heard in the woods except the patter of the raindrops on the leaves. Madame de Grangeville gathered her shawl about her shoulders as if she were cold; she dared not turn her head to see if she were alone, and yet she said to herself: “He must have gone away with the others; it isn’t probable that he has remained here. Why should he? If he recognized me, as I think, he must have been all the more eager to go. Oh, yes! I am very sure that he has not gone to Monsieur Glumeau’s house. What a fool I am to tremble like this! but I can’t help it; I had so little expectation of this meeting, after so many years! It is strange! he has hardly changed at all; he still has the same serious look; he is still--Ah!” As she spoke thus to herself, she slowly turned her head, to make sure that there was no one behind her, and she saw her husband standing motionless against a tree, with his eyes still fixed upon her. Thereupon she felt her blood run cold, she was almost terrified. And yet there was nothing terrifying in the Comte de Brévanne’s eyes; they expressed amazement rather than anger; but she upon whom they were fixed instantly turned her own away, feeling that she had not courage to endure their gaze.