an　unsatisfactory　remark　made　by　his　nephew；　and　who　dreamed　all
  night　about　the　chances　of　pecuniary　loss　augured　by　the　latter's
  return。
  It　was　midnight　before　the　husband　and　wife　were　alone　and　able　to
  give　vent　to　their　feelings。　　Bertrande　still　felt　half　stupefied；
  she　could　not　believe　her　own　eyes　and　ears；　nor　realise　that　she　saw
  again　in　her　marriage　chamber　her　husband　of　eight　years　ago；　him　for
  whom　she　had　wept；　whose　death　she　had　deplored　only　a　few　hours
  previously。　　In　the　sudden　shock　caused　by　so　much　joy　succeeding　so
  much　grief；　she　had　not　been　able　to　express　what　she　felt；　her
  confused　ideas　were　difficult　to　explain；　and　she　seemed　deprived　of
  the　powers　of　speech　and　reflection。　　When　she　became　calmer　and　more
  capable　of　analysing　her　feelings；　she　was　astonished　not　to　feel
  towards　her　husband　the　same　affection　which　had　moved　her　so
  strongly　a　few　hours　before。　　It　was　certainly　himself；　those　were
  the　same　features；　that　was　the　man　to　whom　she　had　willingly　given
  her　hand；　her　heart；　herself；　and　yet　now　that　she　saw　him　again　a
  cold　barrier　of　shyness；　of　modesty；　seemed　to　have　risen　between
  them。　　His　first　kiss；　even；　had　not　made　her　happy：　she　blushed　and
  felt　saddeneda　curious　result　of　the　long　absence！　　She　could　not
  define　the　changes　wrought　by　years　in　his　appearance：　his
  countenance　seemed　harsher；　yet　the　lines　of　his　face；　his　outer　man；
  his　whole　personality；　did　not　seem　altered；　but　his　soul　had　changed
  its　nature；　a　different　mind　looked　forth　from　those　eyes。　　Bertrande
  knew　him　for　her　husband；　and　yet　she　hesitated。　　Even　so　Penelope；
  on　the；　return　of　Ulysses；　required　a　certain　proof　to　confirm　the
  evidence　of　her　eyes；　and　her　long　absent　husband　had　to　remind　her
  of　secrets　known　only　to　herself。
  Martin；　however；　as　if　he　understood　Bertrande's　feeling　and　divined
  some　secret　mistrust；　used　the　most　tender　and　affectionate　phrases；
  and　even　the　very　pet　names　which　close　intimacy　had　formerly
  endeared　to　them。
  〃My　queen；〃　he　said；　〃my　beautiful　dove；　can　you　not　lay　aside　your
  resentment？　　Is　it　still　so　strong　that　no　submission　can　soften　it？
  Cannot　my　repentance　find　grace　in　your　eyes？　　My　Bertrande；　my
  Bertha；　my　Bertranilla；　as　I　used　to　call　you。〃
  She　tried　to　smile；　but　stopped　short；　puzzled；　the　names　were　the
  very　same；　but　the　inflexion　of　voice　quite　different。
  Martin　took　her　hands　in　his。　　〃What　pretty　hands！　　Do　you　still　wear
  my　ring？　　Yes；　here　it　is；　and　with　it　the　sapphire　ring　I　gave　you
  the　day　Sanxi　was　born。〃
  Bertrande　did　not　answer；　but　she　took　the　child　and　placed　him　in
  his　father's　arms。
  Martin　showered　caresses　on　his　son；　and　spoke　of　the　time　when　he
  carried　him　as　a　baby　in　the　garden；　lifting　him　up　to　the　fruit
  trees；　so　that　he　could　reach　and　try　to　bite　the　fruit。　　He
  recollected　one　day　when　the　poor　child　got　his　leg　terribly　torn　by
  thorns；　and　convinced　himself；　not　without　emotion；　that　the　scar
  could　still　be　seen。
  Bertrande　was　touched　by　this　display　of　affectionate　recollections；
  and　felt　vexed　at　her　own　coldness。　　She　came　up　to　Martin　and　laid
  her　hand　in　his。　　He　said　gently
  〃My　departure　caused　you　great　grief：　I　now　repent　what　I　did。　　But　I
  was　young；　I　was　proud；　and　your　reproaches　were　unjust。〃
  〃Ah；〃　said　she；　〃you　have　not　forgotten　the　cause　of　our　quarrel？〃
  〃It　was　little　Rose；　our　neighbour；　whom　you　said　I　was　making　love
  to；　because　you　found　us　together　at　the　spring　in　the　little　wood。
  I　explained　that　we　met　only　by　chance；besides；　she　was　only　a
  child；but　you　would　not　listen；　and　in　your　anger〃
  〃Ah！　forgive　me；　Martin；　forgive　me！〃　she　interrupted；　in　confusion。
  〃In　your　blind　anger　you　took　up；　I　know　not　what；　something　which
  lay　handy；　and　flung　it　at　me。　　And　here　is　the　mark；〃　he　continued；
  smiling；　〃　this　scar；　which　is　still　to　be　seen。〃
  〃Oh；　Martin！　　〃Bertrande　exclaimed；　〃can　you　ever　forgive　me？〃
  〃As　you　see；〃　Martin　replied；　kissing　her　tenderly。
  Much　moved；　Bertrande　swept　aside　his　hair；　and　looked　at　the　scar
  visible　on　his　forehead。
  〃But；〃　she　said；　with　surprise　not　free　from　alarm；　〃this　scar　seems
  to　me　like　a　fresh　one。〃
  〃Ah！〃　Martin　explained；　with　a；　little　embarrassment；　〃it　reopened
  lately。　　But　I　had　thought　no　more　about　it。　　Let　us　forget　it；
  Bertrande；　I　should　not　like　a　recollection　which　might　make　you
  think　yourself　less　dear　to　me　than　you　once　were。〃
  And　he　drew　her　upon　his　knee。　　She　repelled　him　gently。
  〃Send　the　child　to　bed；〃　said　Martin。　　〃Tomorrow　shall　be　for　him；
  to…night　you　have　the　first　place；　Bertrande；　you　only。〃
  The　boy　kissed　his　father　and　went。
  Bertrande　came　and　knelt　beside　her　husband；　regarding　him
  attentively　with　an　uneasy　smile；　which　did　not　appear　to　please　him
  by　any　means。
  〃What　is　the　matter？〃　said　he。　　〃Why　do　you　examine　me　thus？〃
  〃I　do　not　knowforgive　me；　oh！　　forgive　me！　　。　　。　　。　　But　the
  happiness　of　seeing　you　was　so　great　and　unexpected；　it　is　all　like　a
  dream。　　I　must　try　to　become　accustomed　to　it；　give　me　some　time　to
  collect　myself；　let　me　spend　this　night　in　prayer。　　I　ought　to　offer
  my　joy　and　my　thanksgiving　to　Almighty　God〃
  〃Not　so；〃　interrupted　her　husband；　passing　his　arms　round　her　neck
  and　stroking　her　beautiful　hair。　　〃No；　'tis　to　me　that　your　first
  thoughts　are　due。　　After　so　much　weariness；　my　rest　is　in　again
  beholding　you；　and　my　happiness　after　so　many　trials　will　be　found　in
  your　love。　　That　hope　has　supported　me　throughout；　and　I　long　to　be
  assured　that　it　is　no　illusion。〃　　So　saying；　he　endeavoured　to　raise
  her。
  〃Oh；〃　she　murmured；　〃I　pray　you　leave　me。〃
  〃What！〃　he　exclaimed　angrily。　　〃　Bertrande；　is　this　your　love？　　Is　it
  thus　you　keep　faith　with　me？　You　will　make　me　doubt　the　evidence　of
  your　friends；　you　will　make　me　think　that　indifference；　or　even
  another　love〃
  〃You　insult　me；〃　said　Bertrande；　rising　to　her　feet。
  He　caught　her　in　his　arms。　　〃No；　no；　I　think　nothing　which　could
  wound　you；　my　queen；　and　I　believe　your　fidelity；　even　as　before；　you
  know；　on　that　first　journey；　when　you　wrote　me　these　loving　letters
  which　I　have　treasured　ever　since。　　Here　they　are。〃　　And　he　drew
  forth　some　papers；　on　which　Bertrande　recognised　her　own　handwriting。
  〃Yes；〃　he　continued；　〃I　have　read　and　…re…read　them。。。。　　See；　you
  spoke　then　of　your　love　and　the　sorrows　of　absence。　　But　why　all　this
  trouble　and　terror？　　You　tremble；　just　as　you　did　when　I　first
  received　you　from　your　father's　hands。。。。　　It　was　here；　in　this　very
  room。。。。　　You　begged　me　then　to　leave　you；　to　let　you　spend　the　night
  in　prayer；　but　I　insisted；　do　you　remember？　and　pressed　you　to　my
  heart；　as　I　do　now。〃
  〃Oh；〃　she　murmured　weakly；　〃have　pity！〃
  But　the　words　were　intercepted　by　a　kiss；　and　the　remembrance　of　the
  past；　the　happiness　of　the　present；　resumed　their　sway；　the　imaginary
  terrors　were　forgotten；　and　the　curtains　closed　around　the　marriage…
  bed。
  The　next　day　was　a　festival　in　the　village　of　Artigues。　　Martin
  returned　the　visits　of　all　who　had　come　to　welcome　him　the　previous
  night；　and　there　were　endless　recognitions　and　embracings。　　The　young
  men　remembered　that　he　had　played　with　them　when　they　were　little；
  the　old　men；　that　they　had　been　at　his　wedding　when　he　was　only
  twelve。
  The　women　remembered　having　envied　Bertrande；　especially　the　pretty
  Rose；　daughter　of　Marcel；　the　apothecary；　she　who　had　roused　the
  demon　of　jealousy　in；　the　poor　wife's　heart。　　And　Rose　knew　quite
  well　that　the　jealousy　was　not　without　some　cause；　for　Martin　had
  indeed　shown　her　attention；　and　she　was　unable　to　see　him　again
  without　emotion。　　She　was　now　the　wife　of　a　rich　peasant；　ugly；　old；
  and　jealous；　and　she　compared；　sighing；　her　unhappy　lot　with　that　of
  her　more　fortunate　neighbour。　　Martin's　sisters　detained　him　amongst
  them；　and　spoke　of　their　childish　games　and　of　their　parents；　both
  dead　in　Biscay。　　Martin　dried　the　tears　which　flowed　at　these
  recollections　of　the　past；　and　turned　their　thoughts　to　rejoicing。
  Banquets　were　given　and　received。　　Martin　invited　all　his　relations
  and　former　friends；　an　easy　gaiety　prevailed。　　It　was　remarked　that
  the　hero　of　the　feast　refrained　from　wine；　he　was　thereupon
  reproached；　but　answered　that　on　account　of　the　wounds　he　had
  received　he　was　obliged　to　avoid　excess。　　The　excuse　was　admitted；
  the　result　of　Martin's　precautions　being　that　he　kept　a　clear　head　on
  his　shoulders；　while　all　the　rest　had　their　tongues　loosed　by
  drunkenness。
  〃Ah！〃　exclaimed　one　of　the　guests；　who　had　studied　a　little　medicine；
  〃Martin　is　quite　right　to　be　afraid　of　drink。　　Wounds　which　have
  thoroughly　healed　may　be　reopened　and　inflamed　by　intemperance；　and
  wine　in　the　case　of　recent　wounds　is　deadly　poison。　　Men　have　died　on
  the　field　of　battle　in　an　hour　or　two　merely　because　they　had