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"And a happy woman," I continued, "with a happy book." Desgenais understood me; he saw that a profound sadness had taken possession of me. He asked if I had some secret cause of sorrow. I hesitated, but did not reply. "My dear Octave," he said, "if you have any trouble, do not hesitate to confide in me. Speak freely and you will find that I am your friend!"

Thus spoke Desgenais; and the shadows of night began to fall. THE next morning I rode through the Bois de Boulogne; the day was dark and threatening. At the Porte Maillot I dropped the reins on the back of my horse and abandoned myself to reverie, revolving in my mind the words spoken by Desgenais the evening before. Suddenly I heard my name called.

The coachman started up, cracked his whip, and his horses started off on a trot, leaving him seated on the box. That same evening we had passed through the Champs Elysees; Desgenais, seeing another carriage passing, stopped it after the manner of a highwayman; he intimidated the coachman by threats and forced him to climb down and lie flat on his stomach.

For a long time good and bad days succeeded each other almost regularly; I showed myself alternately cruel and scornful, tender and devoted, insensible and haughty, repentant and submissive. The face of Desgenais, which had at first appeared to me as though to warn me whither I was drifting, was now constantly before me.

She replied that if she should return Desgenais would send her back to Paris. "Yes," I replied, "you are beautiful and I am susceptible to temptation; but you weep, and your tears not being shed for me, I care nothing for the rest. Go, therefore, and I will see to it that you are not sent back to Paris."

Desgenais was in good humor; stretching out on my sofa he began to chaff me about the appearance of my face which looked, he said, as though I had not slept well. As I was little disposed to indulge in pleasantry I begged him to spare me. He appeared to pay no attention to me, but warned by my tone he soon broached the subject that had brought him to me.

Desgenais looked at me but made no reply; taking me by the arm he led me away. "I am tired," he said, "and I am sad; this noise wearies me. Let us go to supper, that will refresh us." The supper was splendid, but I could not touch it. "What is the matter with you?" asked Marco. But I sat like a statue, making no reply and looking at her from head to foot with amazement.

Desgenais looked at me but made no reply; taking me by the arm he led me away. "I am tired," he said, "and I am sad; this noise wearies me. Let us go to supper, that will refresh us." The supper was splendid, but I could not touch it. "What is the matter with you?" asked Marco. I sat like a statue, making no reply and looking at her from head to foot with amazement.

Then an incident occurred which made a deep impression on me. Desgenais had with him a very beautiful woman who loved him much. One evening as I was walking with him I told him that I considered her admirable, as much on account of her attachment for him as because of her beauty. In short, I praised her highly and with warmth, giving him to understand that he ought to be happy. He made no reply.

She began to laugh, and Desgenais, who could see us from his table, joined her. Before her was a large crystal glass cut in the shape of a chalice, which reflected the glittering lights on its thousand sparkling facets, shining like the prism and revealing the seven colors of the rainbow.