"You are very flattering. If this man, so opposite to me, has all your sympathy, what sentiment then have you for your humble servant?"
"My sentiment for you," replied Mathilde simply, "you already know. It has satisfied you, and you have never tried to awaken any other."
Henri looked at his watch, took his hat, and started to go; then he returned, and said in an offended tone:--
"My dear, if you are tired of our conjugal tie you have only to say so. It is very distressing to me to be the cause of your regret and of your secret sorrows."
Mathilde looked at him with an air of dignity.
"You wish to say," asked she, "that you do not find the situation to your taste?"
"How can it be agreeable for me to contemplate without ceasing the statue of melancholy? Is this happiness? I think not. You must at least admit that I bear my fate heroically."
"You reproach me?"
"Your sadness, your gloomy looks, say plainly that you are not happy."
"You believe, then, that the honour of being your wife ought to make me happy? What can we do? We cannot change anything, can we? We must bear it, for we have taken before God a sacred vow, and must drink from the same cup, be it bitter or sweet."