"If you have evinced any weakness," added Pierre Raimond, "your conduct has been admirable for its mildness. It is the property of a mind replete with delicacy and elevation to impose on itself the cruellest tortures of doubt rather than risk a reproach, terrible—very terrible—if, contrary to all probability, your wife had been innocent. This long recital of your misfortunes gives me fresh proof of the goodness of your heart; and as one has always the defects of one's qualities, I see, even in the kind of weakness you may be reproached with, evidence of the most exquisite delicacy."
"You are too indulgent, my friend."
"I am just, and as little of a flatterer as Michael Angelo—am I not?" added the old man, with a hearty laugh.
"This is my hour for lessons," said Bertha; "this sorrowful confidence has finished at the right time—it has quite saddened me. Oh! M. Arnold, what sufferings! You ought to have a great deal of happiness to make you forget them!"
At this moment two of Bertha's young pupils entered and broke off the conversation.
De Hansfeld left Pierre Raimond and his daughter, somewhat consoled by the confession he had made, but still regretting the incognito he kept with them.
More than ever desirous of sending his wife away the next day, De Hansfeld returned to the Hôtel Lambert.
CHAPTER XXXI
[THREATS]
Madame de Hansfeld was in a dire perplexity. Her husband had insisted that she should set out next day for Germany, and it was therefore absolutely necessary for her to renounce M. de Morville, necessarily detained at Paris by the failing health of his mother.