"The prince has, then, all his life studied the effects of grief in order to aim his blows more surely. He is a monster! His refinements of torture are unheard of. Oh, now I understand why I do not hate M. de Brévannes sufficiently: all my hatred is employed against my torturer.
"And to be for life—for life, linked to this man! To be unable to break this chain, so odious, except by death!
"Then let it strike me, let it strike me speedily, since one of us must die in order to break this horrible union; let it be me rather than my husband."
M. de Brévannes shuddered at these words, and exclaimed, as he addressed Iris,—
"Is the princess, then, very unhappy?"
"Very unhappy!" replied Iris, gloomily.
"Her husband is without sympathy for her?"
"Quite so."
De Brévannes continued reading:—
"Yes, yes—death! I do not deserve to live; I have been faithless to the memory of Raphael; I do not deserve any commiseration. If my husband is a monster of cruelty, what, then, am I, who cannot turn away my thoughts from the man who has caused all my evils by killing my betrothed?