"But you forget, Valentine, that if I accepted M. de Luceval's wages,--if I remained in his employ, in other words,--I would be obliged to sacrifice my tastes to his, to plunge into the feverish maelstrom of society, in which he delighted,--to go to the Caucasus with him, in short, if the whim seized him, and I preferred death to a life like that." "But your husband loved you so, why did you not endeavour to make him sacrifice his wishes and tastes to yours?" "He loved me, oh, yes, he loved me as I love strawberries,--to eat them. Besides, I knew him too well; he could no more change his character than I could change mine, and our life would have become a hell. It was much better for us to part at once." "Did you inform Michel of your determination?" "Yes, and he approved unreservedly. It was about this time that we first formed some vague plans for the future,--plans which were always subordinate to you, however." "To me?" "Yes, certainly. Michel knew his duty, and would have done it, if we had succeeded in finding you. While he was making a final attempt in that direction, I, on my side, was endeavouring to secure the separation I desired. At the end of four months I was legally divorced from M. de Luceval, and he started on his travels. Then, and not until then, did I see Michel again, as I had requested him to cease his visits until I was free. Neither of us had anything from you, so, being forced to renounce all hope of seeing you again, we began to consider our plans for the future. I alluded a short time ago, my dear Valentine, to the prodigies indolence can achieve; I will tell you some of them.