Painful MomentsAnd she admits it to me! She goes into the minutest details! Herlovely eye fixed on mine reveals the love that she felt for another!

　　SCHILLERMademoiselle de La Mole, in an ecstasy, could think only of the felicityof having come within an inch of being killed. She went so far as to sayto herself: 'He is worthy to be my master, since he has been on the pointof killing me. How many of the good-looking young men in societywould one have to fuse together to arrive at such an impulse of passion?

　　'One must admit that he did look handsome when he climbed on thechair, to replace the sword, precisely in the picturesque position whichthe decorator had chosen for it! After all, I was not such a fool to fall inlove with him.'

　　At that moment, had any honourable way of renewing their relationspresented itself, she would have seized it with pleasure. Julien, lockedand double-locked in his room, was a prey to the most violent despair. Inthe height of his folly, he thought of flinging himself at her feet. If, instead of remaining hidden in a remote corner, he had wandered throughthe house and into the garden, so as to be within reach of any opportunity, he might perhaps in a single instant have converted his fearfulmisery into the keenest happiness.

　　But the adroitness with the want of which we are reproaching himwould have debarred the sublime impulse of seizing the sword which, atthat moment, made him appear so handsome in the eyes of Mademoiselle de La Mole. This caprice, which told in Julien's favour, lasted for therest of the day; Mathilde formed a charming impression of the brief moments during which she had loved him, and looked back on them withregret.

　　 'Actually,' she said to herself, 'my passion for that poor boy lasted, inhis eyes, only from one o'clock in the morning, when I saw him arrive byhis ladder, with all his pistols in the side pocket of his coat, until eight. Itwas at a quarter past eight, when hearing mass at Sainte-Valere, that itfirst occurred to me that he would imagine himself to be my master, andmight try to make me obey him by force of terror.'

　　After dinner, Mademoiselle de La Mole, far from avoiding Julien,spoke to him, and almost ordered him to accompany her to the garden;he obeyed. This proved too much for her self-control. Mathilde yielded,almost unconsciously, to the love which she began to feel for him. Shefound an intense pleasure in strolling by his side, it was with curiositythat she gazed at his hands which that morning had seized the sword tokill her.

　　After such an action, after all that had passed, there could no longer beany question of their conversing on the same terms as before.

　　Gradually Mathilde began to talk to him with an intimate confidenceof the state of her heart. She found a strange delight in this kind of conversation; she proceeded to tell him of the fleeting impulses of enthusiasm which she had felt for M. de Croisenois, for M. de Caylus …'What! For M. de Caylus as well!' cried Julien; and all the bitter jealousy of a past jilted lover was made manifest in his words. Mathilde received them in that light, and was not offended.

　　She continued to torture Julien, detailing her past feelings in the mostpicturesque fashion, and in accents of the most absolute sincerity. Hesaw that she was describing what was present before her eyes. He hadthe grief of remarking that as she spoke she made fresh discoveries inher own heart.

　　The agony of jealousy can go no farther.

　　The suspicion that a rival is loved is painful enough already, but tohave the love that he inspires in her confessed to one in detail by the woman whom one adores is without doubt the acme of suffering.

　　Oh, how she punished, at that moment, the impulse of pride whichhad led Julien to set himself above all the Caylus and Croisenois! Withwhat an intense and heartfelt misery he now exaggerated their mosttrivial advantages! With what ardent sincerity he now despised himself!

　　Mathilde seemed adorable to him, language fails to express the intensity of his admiration. As he walked by her side, he cast furtive glances at her hands, her arms, her regal bearing. He was on the point of falling ather feet, crushed with love and misery, and crying: 'Pity!'

　　'And this creature who is so lovely, so superior to all the rest, who hasonce loved me, it is M. de Caylus whom, no doubt, she will presently beloving!'

　　Julien could not doubt Mademoiselle de La Mole's sincerity; the accentof truth was all too evident in everything that she said. That absolutelynothing might be wanting to complete his misery, there were momentswhen, by dint of occupying her mind with the sentiments which she hadat one time felt for M. de Caylus, Mathilde was led to speak of him asthough she loved him still. Certainly there was love in her accents, Juliencould see it plainly.

　　Had his bosom been flooded with a mass of molten lead, he wouldhave suffered less. How, arrived at this extreme pitch of misery, was thepoor boy to guess that it was because she was talking to him that Mademoiselle de La Mole found such pleasure in recalling all the niceties oflove that she had felt in the past for M. de Caylus or M. de Luz?

　　No words could express Julien's anguish. He was listening to the detailed confidences of the love felt for others in that same lime walkwhere, so few days since, he had waited for one o'clock to strike beforemaking his way into her room. Human nature is incapable of enduringmisery at a higher pitch than this.

　　This kind of cruel intimacy lasted for a whole week. Mathilde now appeared to seek, now did not shun opportunities of speaking to him; a............