Now she was no longer under obligations to him.

"Yes," she said to herself, "we are quits, fairly quits!"

Now also, she reproached herself no longer for the long hours during
which her thoughts, escaping from the control of her will, had turned to
the man of her early choice.

Poor fellow! She had been his evil star.

His life had been imbittered from the day on which he found himself
forsaken by her whom he loved better than life itself. He had given up
every thing.

His parents had "hunted up" an heiress, as they called it, and he had
married her dutifully. But the good old people had been unlucky. The
bride, chosen among a thousand, had brought their son a fortune of a
hundred thousand dollars; but she was a bad woman. And after eight years
of wretched, intolerable married life, Peter Champcey had shot himself,
unable to bear any longer his domestic misfortunes, and the infidelity
of his wife.

He had, however, avoided committing this crime at Angers, where he held
a high official position. He had gone to Rosiers, the house formerly
occupied by Pauline's mother; and there, in a narrow lane, his body
was found by some peasants coming home from market. The ball had so
fearfully disfigured his face, that at first no one recognized him; and
the accident made a terrible sensation.