"And then began a companionship—strange as you may find the word— which was the sweetest my life has held. We talked together daily. This woman, whose whereabouts, whose face, whose name were all unknown to me, became the confidant of my disappointments and my hopes. If I worked well, my thoughts would be, 'Tonight I shall have good news to give her;' if I worked ill—'Never mind, by-and-by she will encourage me!' There was not a page in my next novel that I did not read to her; never a doubt beset me in which I did not turn for her sympathy and advice.
"'Well, how have you got on?'
"'Oh, I am so troubled this evening, dear!'
"'Poor fellow! Tell me all about it. I tried to come to you sooner, but
I couldn't get away.'
"Like that! We talked as if she were really with me. My life was no longer desolate—the indifference in my home no longer grieved me. All the interest, the love, the inspiration I had hungered for, was given to me now by a woman who remained invisible."
Noulens paused again. In the pause I got up to light a cigarette, and— I shall never forget it—I saw the bowed figure of his wife beyond the study door! It was only a glimpse I had, but the glimpse was enough to make my heart stand still—she leant over the table, her face hidden by her hand.
I tried to warn, to signal to him—he did not see me. I felt that I could do nothing, nothing at all, without doubling her humiliation by the knowledge that I had witnessed it. If he would only look at me!
"Listen," he went on rapidly. "I was happy, I was young again—and there was a night when she said to me, 'It is for the last time.'
"Six words! But for a moment I had no breath, no life, to answer them.
"'Speak!' she cried out. 'You are frightening me!'