"A man who is covered with your favors and a woman who owes everything to you are united by a secret intimacy which outrages you. They are impatient for the hour when they can divide your spoils.
"He who regards it as a pious duty to warn you does not desire to calumniate any one. He is sure that your honor is respected by her to whom you have confided it, and that she is still worthy of your confidence and esteem. She wrongs you in allowing herself to count upon the future, which your best friend dates from your death. He seeks your widow and your estate.
"The poor woman submits against her will to the fascinations of a man too celebrated for his successful affairs of the heart. But this man, your friend—almost your son—how can he excuse his conduct? Every honest person must be shocked by such behavior, and particularly he whom a chance conversation informed of the fact, and who obeys his conscience in giving you this information."
The Marquise, after reading it, returned the letter coldly to the
General.
"Sign it Eleanore-Jeanne de la Roche-Jugan!" she said.
"Do you think so?" asked the General.
"It is as clear as day," replied the Marquise. "These expressions betray her—'a pious duty to warn you—'celebrated for his successful affairs of the heart'—'every honest person.' She can disguise her writing, but not her style. But what is still more conclusive is that which she attributes to Monsieur de Camors—for I suppose it alludes to him—and to his private prospects and calculations. This can not have failed to strike you, as it has me, I suppose?"
"If I thought this vile letter was her work," cried the General, "I never would see her again during my life."
"Why not? It is better to laugh at it!"
The General began one of his solemn promenades across the room. The Marquise looked uneasily at the clock. Her husband, intercepting one of these glances, suddenly stopped.