"And I should not have had the courage you had," said the marquis. "Open that door again, Jean, and let me look at the marchioness's portrait. You have given me courage. I was insane the day I turned you out of my house. You would have saved me from becoming weak and mad. I thought that I was getting rid of an enemy, and I deprived myself of a friend." "But why in the devil did you take me for your enemy?" "Have you no idea?" replied the marquis, fixing his eyes upon him in a piercing glance. "Not the least," said the carpenter emphatically. "On your honor?" added Monsieur de Boisguilbault, wringing his hand fiercely. "On my everlasting salvation!" replied Jean, raising his hand above his head with dignity. "I hope that you are going to tell me at last." The marquis seemed not to hear this direct and sincere appeal. He felt that Jean told the truth, and he had resumed his seat. Turning his chair toward the study door, which Jean had opened, he gazed with profound sadness at his wife's features. "I can understand that you continued to love your wife, that you forgave the innocent child," he said; "but how you could endure and continue to meet the friend who betrayed you--that is what passes my comprehension!" "Ah! Monsieur de Boisguilbault, that was in fact the most difficult thing of all! especially as it was not my duty, and everybody would have applauded me if I had broken every bone in his body. But I tell you what disarmed me: I saw that he was terribly remorseful and really unhappy. So long as the fever of love had hold of him, he would have walked over my body to join his mistress. She was as lovely as a rose in May; I don't know whether you ever saw her, or remember her, but I know that Nannie was as beautiful in her way as Madame de Boisguilbault. I was mad over her, and so was he! He would have turned heathen for her, and I turned idiot. But when the youthful ardor began to die away I saw well enough that they no longer loved each other and that they were ashamed of their sin. My wife began to love me again, seeing that I was kind and generous to her, and as for him, his sin was so heavy on his heart, that, when we drank together, he always wanted to confess to me; but I wouldn't have it, and sometimes, when he was drunk, he would kneel at my feet, yelling: "'Kill me, Jean, kill me! I deserve it and I shall be satisfied!'