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and all the schemes of literature； its self…loves； and its products。
When Nathan； harassed and fatigued； would rush from his editorial
office to the theatre； from the theatre to the Chamber； from the
Chamber to face certain creditors； he was forced to appear in the Bois
with a calm countenance； and gallop beside Marie's carriage in the
leisurely style of a man devoid of cares and with no other duties than
those of love。 When in return for this toilsome and wholly ignored
devotion all he won were a few sweet words； the prettiest assurances
of eternal attachment； ardent pressures of the hand on the very few
occasions when they found themselves alone； he began to feel he was
rather duped by leaving his mistress in ignorance of the enormous
costs of these 〃little attentions；〃 as our fathers called them。 The
occasion for an explanation arrived in due time。
On a fine April morning the countess accepted Nathan's arm for a walk
through the sequestered path of the Bois de Boulogne。 She intended to
make him one of those pretty little quarrels apropos of nothing； which
women are so fond of exciting。 Instead of greeting him as usual； with
a smile upon her lips； her forehead illumined with pleasure； her eyes
bright with some gay or delicate thought； she assumed a grave and
serious aspect。
〃What is the matter？〃 said Nathan。
〃Why do you pretend to such ignorance？〃 she replied。 〃You ought to
know that a woman is not a child。〃
〃Have I displeased you？〃
〃Should I be here if you had？〃
〃But you don't smile to me； you don't seem happy to see me。〃
〃Oh！ do you accuse me of sulking？〃 she said； looking at him with that
submissive air which women assume when they want to seem victims。
Nathan walked on a few steps in a state of real apprehension which
oppressed him。
〃It must be；〃 he said； after a moment's silence； 〃one of those
frivolous fears； those hazy suspicions which women dwell on more than
they do on the great things of life。 You all have a way of tipping the
world sideways with a straw； a cobweb〃
〃Sarcasm！〃 she said； 〃I might have expected it！〃
〃Marie； my angel； I only said those words to wring your secret out of
you。〃
〃My secret would be always a secret； even if I told it to you。〃
〃But all the same； tell it to me。〃
〃I am not loved；〃 she said； giving him one of those sly oblique
glances with which women question so maliciously the men they are
trying to torment。
〃Not loved！〃 cried Nathan。
〃No； you are too occupied with other things。 What am I to you in the
midst of them？ forgotten on the least occasion！ Yesterday I came to
the Bois and you were not here〃
〃But〃
〃I had put on a new dress expressly to please you； you did not come；
where were you？〃
〃But〃
〃I did not know where。 I went to Madame d'Espard's； you were not
there。〃
〃But〃
〃That evening at the Opera； I watched the balcony； every time a door
opened my heart was beating！〃
〃But〃
〃What an evening I had！ You don't reflect on such tempests of the
heart。〃
〃But〃
〃Life is shortened by such emotions。〃
〃But〃
〃Well； what？〃 she said。
〃You are right； life is shortened by them；〃 said Nathan； 〃and in a few
months you will utterly have consumed mine。 Your unreasonable
reproaches drag my secret from me Ha！ you say you are not loved； you
are loved too well。〃
And thereupon he vividly depicted his position； told of his sleepless
nights； his duties at certain hours； the absolute necessity of
succeeding in his enterprise； the insatiable requirements of a
newspaper in which he was required to judge the events of the whole
world without blundering； under pain of losing his power； and so
losing all； the infinite amount of rapid study he was forced to give
to questions which passed as rapidly as clouds in this all…consuming
age； etc。； etc。
Raoul made a great mistake。 The Marquise d'Espard had said to him on
one occasion； 〃Nothing is more naive than a first love。〃 As he
unfolded before Marie's eyes this life which seemed to her immense；
the countess was overcome with admiration。 She had thought Nathan
grand； she now considered him sublime。 She blamed herself for loving
him too much； begged him to come to her only when he could do so
without difficulty。 Wait？ indeed she could wait！ In future； she should
know how to sacrifice her enjoyments。 Wishing to be his stepping…stone
was she really an obstacle？ She wept with despair。
〃Women；〃 she said； with tears in her eyes； 〃can only love； men act；
they have a thousand ways in which they are bound to act。 But we can
only think； and pray； and worship。〃
A love that had sacrificed so much for her sake deserved a recompense。
She looked about her like a nightingale descending from a leafy covert
to drink at a spring； to see if she were alone in the solitude； if the
silence hid no witness； then she raised her head to Raoul； who bent
his own； and let him take one kiss； the first and the only one that
she ever gave in secret； feeling happier at that moment than she had
felt in five years。 Raoul thought all his toils well…paid。 They both
walked forward they scarcely knew where； but it was on the road to
Auteuil； presently； however； they were forced to return and find their
carriages； pacing together with the rhythmic step well…known to
lovers。 Raoul had faith in that kiss given with the quiet facility of
a sacred sentiment。 All the evil of it was in the mind of the world；
not in that of the woman who walked beside him。 Marie herself； given
over to the grateful admiration which characterizes the love of woman；
walked with a firm； light step on the gravelled path； saying； like
Raoul； but few words； yet those few were felt and full of meaning。 The
sky was cloudless； the tall trees had burgeoned； a few green shoots
were already brightening their myriad of brown twigs。 The shrubs； the
birches； the willows； the poplars were showing their first diaphanous
and tender foliage。 No soul resists these harmonies。 Love explained
Nature as it had already explained society to Marie's heart。
〃I wish you have never loved any one but me；〃 she said。
〃Your wish is realized；〃 replied Raoul。 〃We have awakened in each
other the only true love。〃
He spoke the truth as he felt it。 Posing before this innocent young
heart as a pure man； Raoul was caught himself by his own fine
sentiments。 At first purely speculative and born of vanity； his love
had now become sincere。 He began by lying； he had ended in speaking
truth。 In all writers there is ever a sentiment； difficult to stifle；
which impels them to admire the highest good。 The countess； on her
part； after her first rush of gratitude and surprise； was charmed to
have inspired such sacrifices； to have caused him to surmount such
difficulties。 She was beloved by a man who was worthy of her！ Raoul
was totally ignorant to what his imaginary grandeur bound him。 Women
will n