
affection, which touched me deeply.

We spent the evening together, talking of the days which had gone
by. We made no plans, for we had lost faith in the future. Then we
parted.... For ever? ... The question was not mooted; we silently
agreed to leave it to chance to reunite us or not.


[1] A Swedish crown is equivalent to 1s. 4d.




IV


The journey really rejuvenated me. It stirred up the memories of my
early youth and I felt a mad joy surging in my heart; I wanted to
forget the last two years of misery, and not for one single moment did
I feel inclined to speak of Marie. The whole tragedy of the divorce was
like a repulsive heap of offal, from which I was eager to fly without
turning round. I could not help smiling in my sleeve at times, like a
fugitive who is firmly resolved not to be taken again; I felt like a
debtor who has escaped from his creditors and is hiding in a distant
country.

For two weeks I revelled in the Paris theatres, museums and libraries.
I received no letters from Marie, and was beginning to hope that she
had got over our separation and that everything was well in the best of
all possible worlds.

But after a certain time I grew tired of wandering about, and sated
with so many new and strong impressions; things began to lose their
interest. I stayed in my room and read the papers, oppressed by vague
apprehensions, by an inexplicable uneasiness.

The vision of the white woman, the Fata Morgana of the virginal mother
began to haunt me and disturbed my peace. The picture of the insolent
actress was wiped out of my memory; I remembered only the Baroness,
young, beautiful; her fragile body transfigured and clothed with the
beauty of the Land of Promise, dreamed of by the ascetes.

I was indulging in those painful and yet delicious dreams when I
received a letter from Marie, in which she informed me in heartbreaking
words that she was about to become a mother, and implored me to save
her from dishonour.

Without a moment's hesitation I packed my portmanteau. I left Paris by
the first train f