"I could not believe that that letter which I had under my eyes meant what it said; ten times I read it, then I went to Roncherolle's house; but he had not misled me, he had gone away at six o'clock that morning. Judging from the preparations that he had made, it was probable that he had left Paris, but where had he gone? No one could tell me. I sought him in every direction, to no purpose; for several days I made the most minute search, I could not discover a trace of the man, who, after shamefully betraying my friendship, dared appeal to it to excuse himself for not giving me satisfaction for his outrage. So I was forced to go away without my revenge. Ah! Monsieur de Merval, I confess that that was one of the most cruel torments that I suffered! I left France and travelled for some time; but on receipt of certain intelligence, I returned suddenly to Paris a year after my departure; I was assured that De Roncherolle had returned, that he had been seen; but despite all my efforts, I could not succeed in finding him. I went away again and travelled a long while; years passed, and time, that great restorer, at last restored the tranquillity which I had lost, without, however, restoring my happiness; for, from the sufferings that I had undergone, I had retained a deep-rooted misanthropy, and almost an aversion to mankind. I was excusable, was I not, monsieur? Betrayed in my dearest affections, at the age when the heart abandons itself to them with the least reserve, I no longer believed in anything that had formerly contributed to my happiness; and it is melancholy to say to oneself: 'I have no friend; the man who presses my hand to-day will betray me to-morrow if any of his passions may be gratified by so doing.'" "Oh! Monsieur de Brevanne, you must not include all mankind in the same anathema! Believe me, there are sincere sentiments, and there are men who understand friendship.--And so you have not seen Monsieur de Roncherolle since the day that you were to fight?" "As I tell you, it was impossible for me to find him. Someone told me once that he had met him in the Pyrenees, travelling with a lady who called herself the Baronne de Grangeville; from the portrait that was given me of that lady, I had no doubt that it was my wife, and that thought prevented me from going to the Pyrenees; for I will admit that, while I desired earnestly to meet a false friend upon whom I hoped to be revenged, I had not the slightest desire to meet a woman whom I had loved so dearly and who had betrayed me so outrageously. Much time has passed since then. A few years ago, I bought this country house, in which I am beginning to take some pleasure. Now, Monsieur de Merval, you know the cause of my separation from Madame de Brevanne--tell me frankly if the world guessed the truth, and if it judged justly in this matter?"