"'Your life is the negation of your whole being,' I replied. 'What?
You, on whom God has lavished His choicest treasures of love and
beauty, do you never wish----'

"'For what?' said she, somewhat disturbed by a speech which, for the
first time, gave the lie to the part I had assumed.

"'For a pretty little child, with curling hair, running, playing
among the flowers, like a flower itself of life and love, and calling
you mother!'

"I waited for an answer. A too prolonged silence led me to perceive
the terrible effect of my words, though the darkness at first
concealed it. Leaning on her sofa, the Countess had not indeed
fainted, but frozen under a nervous attack of which the first chill,
as gentle as everything that was part of her, felt, as she afterwards
said, like the influence of a most insidious poison. I called Madame
Gobain, who came and led away her mistress, laid her on her bed,
unlaced her, undressed her, and restored her, not to life, it is true,
but to the consciousness of some dreadful suffering. I meanwhile
walked up and down the path behind the house, weeping, and doubting my
success. I only wished to give up this part of the bird-catcher which
I had so rashly assumed. Madame Gobain, who came down and found me
with my face wet with tears, hastily went up again to say to the
Countess:

"'What has happened, madame? Monsieur Maurice is crying like a
child.'

"Roused to action by the evil interpretation that might be put on our