They left for Brittany. They spoke of the pleasant walks and drives, and the baron, in an absent manner, asked on which part of the coast was the most sand. He would not hear of the cliffs; he wanted sand—only sand. Gâvre was recommended by a gentleman who was seated near them at the table d'hôte.
The baron instantly decided upon going to Gâvre.
“At what hour shall we leave?” asked the baroness.
The we evidently displeased the baron. He wished to go alone. He gave a thousand pretexts to prevent his wife accompanying him. As she would not admit them, he said, contrary to his usual custom, “I will” ... “I wish to go alone,” said he. “Am I in prison? Do you take me for a criminal?”
The baron left Port Louis in the steamboat. His wife followed him, without being seen, on another boat, and watched his movements through a spy-glass, as he paced up and down the shore at Gâvre.
First, according to his usual custom, he assured himself that he was alone. Then he would take several steps, and return quickly, seeing nothing; he searched in the sand, and, finding his own footsteps, he sought a little further on the trace of the other one. All in vain. Disappointed, he went to another spot, and recommenced his weary walk, always seeing his own footprints, never the other. He had hoped in the sand; the sand had proved false, as everything else.
VII.
Meanwhile, the doctor was in Paris, and one evening in a salon in the faubourg Saint Germain. The conversation was on madness; and the doctor, who was a celebrated alieniste, was asked many questions as to the causes of insanity.
“The causes of insanity,” said he, “are so profound and mysterious that to know them one must make the tour of the invisible world.”
“I have known,” said one gentleman, “insane persons who thought themselves guilty of crimes which they had never committed—innocent men, intelligent and good, incapable of harming a bird, and who thought themselves assassins.”