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reached a point where science is useless； it is the incurable result
of grief； just as a mortal wound is the result of a stab。 Her physical
condition is produced by the inertia of an organ as necessary to life
as the action of the heart itself。 Grief has done the work of a
dagger。 Don't deceive yourself； Madame de Mortsauf is dying of some
hidden grief。〃
〃Hidden！〃 I exclaimed。 〃Her children have not been ill？〃
〃No；〃 he said； looking at me significantly； 〃and since she has been so
seriously attacked Monsieur de Mortsauf has ceased to torment her。 I
am no longer needed； Monsieur Deslandes of Azay is all…sufficient；
nothing can be done； her sufferings are dreadful。 Young； beautiful；
and rich； to die emaciated； shrunken with hungerfor she dies of
hunger！ During the last forty days the stomach； being as it were
closed up； has rejected all nourishment； under whatever form we
attempt to give it。〃
Monsieur Origet pressed my hand with a gesture of respect。
〃Courage； monsieur；〃 he said； lifting his eyes to heaven。
The words expressed his compassion for sufferings he thought shared；
he little suspected the poisoned arrow which they shot into my heart。
I sprang into the carriage and ordered the postilion to drive on；
promising a good reward if I arrived in time。
Notwithstanding my impatience I seemed to do the distance in a few
minutes； so absorbed was I in the bitter reflections that crowded upon
my soul。 Dying of grief； yet her children were well？ then she died
through me！ My conscience uttered one of those arraignments which echo
throughout our lives and sometimes beyond them。 What weakness； what
impotence in human justice； which avenges none but open deeds！ Why
shame and death to the murderer who kills with a blow； who comes upon
you unawares in your sleep and makes it last eternally； who strikes
without warning and spares you a struggle？ Why a happy life； an
honored life； to the murderer who drop by drop pours gall into the
soul and saps the body to destroy it？ How many murderers go
unpunished！ What indulgence for fashionable vice！ What condoning of
the homicides caused by moral wrongs！ I know not whose avenging hand
it was that suddenly； at that moment； raised the painted curtain that
reveals society。 I saw before me many victims known to you and me；
Madame de Beauseant； dying； and starting for Normandy only a few days
earlier； the Duchesse de Langeais lost； Lady Brandon hiding herself in
Touraine in the little house where Lady Dudley had stayed two weeks；
and dying there； killed by a frightful catastrophe；you know it。 Our
period teems with such events。 Who does not remember that poor young
woman who poisoned herself； overcome by jealousy； which was perhaps
killing Madame de Mortsauf？ Who has not shuddered at the fate of that
enchanting young girl who perished after two years of marriage； like a
flower torn by the wind； the victim of her chaste ignorance； the
victim of a villain with whom Ronquerolles； Montriveau； and de Marsay
shake hands because he is useful to their political projects？ What
heart has failed to throb at the recital of the last hours of the
woman whom no entreaties could soften； and who would never see her
husband after nobly paying his debts？ Madame d'Aiglemont saw death
beside her and was saved only by my brother's care。 Society and
science are accomplices in crimes for which there are no assizes。 The
world declares that no one dies of grief； or of despair； nor yet of
love； of anguish hidden； of hopes cultivated yet fruitless； again and
again replanted yet forever uprooted。 Our new scientific nomenclature
has plenty of words to explain these things； gastritis； pericarditis；
all the thousand maladies of women the names of which are whispered in
the ear； all serve as passports to the coffin followed by hypocritical
tears that are soon wiped by the hand of a notary。 Can there be at the
bottom of this great evil some law which we do not know？ Must the
centenary pitilessly strew the earth with corpses and dry them to dust
about him that he may raise himself； as the millionaire battens on a
myriad of little industries？ Is there some powerful and venomous life
which feasts on these gentle； tender creatures？ My God！ do I belong to
the race of tigers？
Remorse gripped my heart in its scorching fingers； and my cheeks were
furrowed with tears as I entered the avenue of Clochegourde on a damp
October morning； which loosened the dead leaves of the poplars planted
by Henriette in the path where once she stood and waved her
handkerchief as if to recall me。 Was she living？ Why did I feel her
two white hands upon my head laid prostrate in the dust？ In that
moment I paid for all the pleasures that Arabella had given me； and I
knew that I paid dearly。 I swore not to see her again； and a hatred of
England took possession of me。 Though Lady Dudley was only a variety
of her species； I included all Englishwomen in my judgment。
I received a fresh shock as I neared Clochegourde。 Jacques； Madeleine；
and the Abbe Dominis were kneeling at the foot of a wooden cross
placed on a piece of ground that was taken into the enclosure when the
iron gate was put up； which the count and countess had never been
willing to remove。 I sprang from the carriage and went towards them；
my heart aching at the sight of these children and that grave old man
imploring the mercy of God。 The old huntsman was there too； with bared
head； standing a little apart。
I stooped to kiss Jacques and Madeleine； who gave me a cold look and
continued praying。 The abbe rose from his knees； I took him by the arm
to support myself； saying； 〃Is she still alive？〃 He bowed his head
sadly and gently。 〃Tell me； I implore you for Christ's sake； why are
you praying at the foot of this cross？ Why are you here； and not with
her？ Why are the children kneeling here this chilly morning？ Tell me
all； that I may do no harm through ignorance。〃
〃For the last few days Madame le comtesse has been unwilling to see
her children except at stated times。Monsieur；〃 he continued after a
pause； 〃perhaps you had better wait a few hours before seeing Madame
de Mortsauf； she is greatly changed。 It is necessary to prepare her
for this interview； or it might cause an increase in her sufferings
death would be a blessed release from them。〃
I wrung the hand of the good man； whose look and voice soothed the
pangs of others without sharpening them。
〃We are praying God to help her；〃 he continued； 〃for she； so saintly；
so resigned； so fit to die； has shown during the last few weeks a
horror of death； for the first time in her life she looks at others
who are full of health with gloomy； envious eyes。 This aberration
comes less； I think； from the fear of death than from some inward
intoxication；from the flowers of her youth which ferment as they
wither。 Yes； an evil angel is striving against heaven for that
glorious soul。 She is passing through her struggle on the Mount of
Olives； her tears bathe the white roses of her crown as they fall； one
by one； from the head of this wedded Jephtha。 Wait； do not see her
yet。 You would bring to her the atmosphere of the court； she would see
in your face th