The supposed memoranda of Madame de Hansfeld had been perfidiously broken off at this place.
As he read the latter portion, which referred to the pretended infidelity of Bertha, De Brévannes bounded from his seat with anguish and rage.
For the very reason that the reading of the first part of the journal had plunged him into all the ravishments of pride, and that pride excited to the highest pitch, this counter-blow was the more painful, and he could hardly restrain himself when he thought that he was, perchance, playing a foolish part in the eyes of Paula. He knew women well enough to be aware, that if it be pleasant, very pleasant, to them to carry off a husband or a lover from a faithful heart, they care but very little to serve as a revenge for a man who has been himself deceived.
Iris herself was frightened at the expression of anger and hatred which contracted De Brévannes' features, as he read this passage in the Black Book, and she left Bertha's husband assured of having stricken where she wished to strike.
In fact, she quitted M. de Brévannes in a state of excitement impossible to describe.
On the one hand, he flattered himself that he was beloved by Madame de Hansfeld with intense energy,—but he had also the certainty that he should never obtain any thing from so resolute a woman, who drew from the very excess of her love the means of resistance which she calculated on using; desiring and believing most firmly that she proved her passion by the obstinate refusals in which she gloried.
On the other hand, his blood boiled with rage when he thought that Bertha deceived him,—that, perhaps, he was an object of mockery and sarcasm to society. The least circumstances of his conversation with his wife returned to his mind, and he found in them the confirmation of those suspicions which some lines of the Black Book had awakened.
He did not know what to resolve upon. The day after he was to present his wife to Madame de Hansfeld; it was, therefore, necessary to be on his guard with Bertha until after the introduction, which he looked upon as so important for the future success of his love,—but how to restrain himself until then; he—always accustomed to make his wife endure his fits of ill temper on any occasion, however trivial.
He exhausted thought in reflecting as to the person who could be the guilty participator with Madame de Brévannes. And, after mature reflection, remembering the retiring habits Bertha had of late affected, he persuaded himself that she was engaged in some low and vulgar amour.
Iris, with infernal sagacity, had skilfully made it appear that Paula dwelt greatly on the happiness and pride she would have had in bearing the name of De Brévannes; and it was that name Bertha was dishonouring.