〃You　have　punished　me　well；〃　she　said；　addressing　him。
  Vandenesse　gazed　at　her　in　astonishment。
  〃Punished？〃　he　echoed。　〃And　for　what？〃　He　understood　her　quite　well；　but　he　meant　to　be　avenged　for　all　that　he　had　suffered　as　soon　as　she　suspected　it。
  〃Why　have　you　not　come　to　see　me？〃　she　demanded　with　a　smile。
  〃Then　you　have　seen　no　visitors？〃　asked　he；　parrying　the　question。
  〃Yes。　M。　de　Ronquerolles　and　M。　de　Marsay　and　young　d'Escrignon　came　and　stayed　for　nearly　two　hours；　the　first　two　yesterday；　the　last　this　morning。　And　besides；　I　have　had　a　call；　I　believe；　from　Mme。　Firmiani　and　from　your　sister；　Mme。　de　Listomere。〃
  Here　was　a　new　infliction；　torture　which　none　can　comprehend　unless　they　know　love　as　a　fierce　and　all…invading　tyrant　whose　mildest　symptom　is　a　monstrous　jealousy；　a　perpetual　desire　to　snatch　away　the　beloved　from　every　other　influence。
  〃What！〃　thought　he　to　himself；　〃she　has　seen　visitors；　she　has　been　with　happy　creatures；　and　talking　to　them；　while　I　was　unhappy　and　all　alone。〃
  He　buried　his　annoyance　forthwith；　and　consigned　love　to　the　depths　of　his　heart；　like　a　coffin　to　the　sea。　His　thoughts　were　of　the　kind　that　never　find　expression　in　words；　they　pass　through　the　mind　swiftly　as　a　deadly　acid；　that　poisons　as　it　evaporates　and　vanishes。　His　brow；　however；　was　over…clouded；　and　Mme。　d'Aiglemont；　guided　by　her　woman's　instinct；　shared　his　sadness　without　understanding　it。　She　had　hurt　him；　unwittingly；　as　Vandenesse　knew。　He　talked　over　his　position　with　her；　as　if　his　jealousy　were　one　of　those　hypothetical　cases　which　lovers　love　to　discuss。　Then　the　Marquise　understood　it　all。　She　was　so　deeply　moved；　that　she　could　not　keep　back　the　tears　and　so　these　lovers　entered　the　heaven　of　love。
  Heaven　and　Hell　are　two　great　imaginative　conceptions　formulating　our　ideas　of　Joy　and　Sorrowthose　two　poles　about　which　human　existence　revolves。　Is　not　heaven　a　figure　of　speech　covering　now　and　for　evermore　an　infinite　of　human　feeling　impossible　to　express　save　in　its　accidentssince　that　Joy　is　one？　And　what　is　Hell　but　the　symbol　of　our　infinite　power　to　suffer　tortures　so　diverse　that　of　our　pain　it　is　possible　to　fashion　works　of　art；　for　no　two　human　sorrows　are　alike？
  One　evening　the　two　lovers　sat　alone　and　side　by　side；　silently　watching　one　of　the　fairest　transformations　of　the　sky；　a　cloudless　heaven　taking　hues　of　pale　gold　and　purple　from　the　last　rays　of　the　sunset。　With　the　slow　fading　of　the　daylight；　sweet　thoughts　seem　to　awaken；　and　soft　stirrings　of　passion；　and　a　mysterious　sense　of　trouble　in　the　midst　of　calm。　Nature　sets　before　us　vague　images　of　bliss；　bidding　us　enjoy　the　happiness　within　our　reach；　or　lament　it　when　it　has　fled。　In　those　moments　fraught　with　enchantment；　when　the　tender　light　in　the　canopy　of　the　sky　blends　in　harmony　with　the　spells　working　within；　it　is　difficult　to　resist　the　heart's　desires　grown　so　magically　potent。　Cares　are　blunted；　joy　becomes　ecstasy；　pain；　intolerable　anguish。　The　pomp　of　sunset　gives　the　signal　for　confessions　and　draws　them　forth。　Silence　grows　more　dangerous　than　speech　for　it　gives　to　eyes　all　the　power　of　the　infinite　of　the　heavens　reflected　in　them。　And　for　speech；　the　least　word　has　irresistible　might。　Is　not　the　light　infused　into　the　voice　and　purple　into　the　glances？　Is　not　heaven　within　us；　or　do　we　feel　that　we　are　in　the　heavens？
  Vandenesse　and　Juliefor　so　she　had　allowed　herself　to　be　called　for　the　past　few　days　by　him　whom　she　loved　to　speak　of　as　Charles　Vandenesse　and　Julie　were　talking　together；　but　they　had　drifted　very　far　from　their　original　subject；　and　if　their　spoken　words　had　grown　meaningless　they　listened　in　delight　to　the　unspoken　thoughts　that　lurked　in　the　sounds。　Her　hand　lay　in　his。　She　had　abandoned　it　to　him　without　a　thought　that　she　had　granted　a　proof　of　love。
  Together　they　leaned　forward　to　look　out　upon　a　majestic　cloud　country；　full　of　snows　and　glaciers　and　fantastic　mountain　peaks　with　gray　stains　of　shadow　on　their　sides；　a　picture　composed　of　sharp　contrasts　between　fiery　red　and　the　shadows　of　darkness；　filling　the　skies　with　a　fleeting　vision　of　glory　which　cannot　be　reproduced　magnificent　swaddling…bands　of　sunrise；　bright　shrouds　of　the　dying　sun。　As　they　leaned　Julie's　hair　brushed　lightly　against　Vandenesse's　cheek。　She　felt　that　light　contact；　and　shuddered　violently；　and　he　even　more；　for　imperceptibly　they　both　had　reached　one　of　those　inexplicable　crises　when　quiet　has　wrought　upon　the　senses　until　every　faculty　of　perception　is　so　keen　that　the　slightest　shock　fills　the　heart　lost　in　melancholy　with　sadness　that　overflows　in　tears；　or　raises　joy　to　ecstasy　in　a　heart　that　is　lost　in　the　vertigo　of　love。　Almost　involuntarily　Julie　pressed　her　lover's　hand。　That　wooing　pressure　gave　courage　to　his　timidity。　All　the　joy　of　the　present；　all　the　hopes　of　the　future　were　blended　in　the　emotion　of　a　first　caress；　the　bashful　trembling　kiss　that　Mme。　d'Aiglemont　received　upon　her　cheek。　The　slighter　the　concession；　the　more　dangerous　and　insinuating　it　was。　For　their　double　misfortune　it　was　only　too　sincere　a　revelation。　Two　noble　natures　had　met　and　blended；　drawn　each　to　each　by　every　law　of　natural　attraction；　held　apart　by　every　ordinance。
  General　d'Aiglemont　came　in　at　that　very　moment。
  〃The　Ministry　has　gone　out；〃　he　said。　〃Your　uncle　will　be　in　the　new　cabinet。　So　you　stand　an　uncommonly　good　chance　of　an　embassy；　Vandenesse。〃
  Charles　and　Julie　looked　at　each　other　and　flushed　red。　That　blush　was　one　more　tie　to　unite　them；　there　was　one　thought　and　one　remorse　in　either　mind；　between　two　lovers　guilty　of　a　kiss　there　is　a　bond　quite　as　strong　and　terrible　as　the　bond　between　two　robbers　who　have　murdered　a　man。　Something　had　to　be　said　by　way　of　reply。
  〃I　do　not　care　to　leave　Paris　now；〃　Charles　said。
  〃We　know　why；〃　said　the　General；　with　the　knowing　air　of　a　man　who　discovers　a　secret。　〃You　do　not　like　to　leave　your　uncle；　because　you　do　not　wish　to　lose　your　chance　of　succeeding　to　the　title。〃
  The　Marquise　took　refuge　in　her　room；　and　in　her　mind　passed　a　pitiless　verdict　upon　her　husband。
  〃His　stupidity　is　really　beyond　anything！〃
  IV。
  THE　FINGER　OF　GOD
  Between　the　Barriere　d'Italie　and　the　Barriere　de　la　Sante；　along　the　boulevard　which　leads　to　the　Jardin　des　Plantes；　you　have　a　view　of　Paris　fit　to　send　an　artist　or　the　tourist；　the　most　/blase/　in　matters　of　landscape；　into　ecstasies。　Reach　the　slightly　higher　ground　where　the　line　of　boulevard；　shaded　by　tall；　thick…spreading　trees；　curves　with　the　grace　of　some　green　and　silent　forest　avenue；　and　you　see　spread　out　at　your　feet　a　deep　valley　populous　with　factories　looking　almost　countrified　among　green　trees　and　the　brown　streams　of　the　Bievre　or　the　Gobelins。
  On　the　opposite　slope；　beneath　some　thousands　of　roofs　packed　close　together　like　heads　in　a　crowd；　lurks　the　squalor　of　the　Faubourg　Saint…Marceau。　The　imposing　cupola　of　the　Pantheon；　and　the　grim　melancholy　dome　of　the　Val…du…Grace；　tower　proudly　up　above　a　whole　town　in　itself；　built　amphitheatre…wise；　every　tier　being　grotesquely　represented　by　a　crooked　line　of　street；　so　that　the　two　public　monuments　look　like　a　huge　pair　of　giants　dwarfing　into　insignificance　the　poor　little　houses　and　the　tallest　poplars　in　the　valley。　To　your　left　behold　the　observatory；　the　daylight；　pouring　athwart　its　windows　and　galleries；　producing　such　fantastical　strange　effects　that　the　building　looks　like　a　black　spectral　skeleton。　Further　yet　in　the　distance　rises　the　elegant　lantern　tower　of　the　Invalides；　soaring　up　between　the　bluish　pile　of　the　Luxembourg　and　the　gray　tours　of　Saint…　Sulpice。　From　this　standpoint　the　lines　of　the　architecture　are　blended　with　green　leaves　and　gray　shadows；　and　change　every　moment　with　every　aspect　of　the　heavens；　every　alteration　of　light　or　color　in　the　sky。　Afar；　the　skyey　spaces　themselves　seem　to　be　full　of　buildings；　near；　wind　the　serpentine　curves　of　waving　trees　and　green　footpaths。
  Away　to　your　right；　through　a　great　gap　in　this　singular　landscape；　you　see　the　canal　Saint…Martin；　a　long　pale　stripe　with　its　edging　of　reddish　stone　quays　and　fringes　of　lime　avenue。　The　long　rows　of　buildings　beside　it；　in　genuine　Roman　style；　are　the　public　granaries。
  Beyond；　again；　on　the　very　last　plane　of　all；　see　the　smoke…dimmed　slopes　of　Belleville　covered　with　houses　and　windmills；　which　blend　their　freaks　of　outline　with　the　chance　effects　of　cloud。　And　still；　between　that　horizon；　vague　as　some　childish　recollection；　and　the　serried　range　of　roofs　in　the　valley；　a　whole　city　lies　out　of　sight：　a　huge　city；　engulfed；　as　it　were；　in　a　vast　hollow　between　the　pinnacles　of　the　Hopital　de　la　Pitie　and　the　ridge　line　of　the　Cimetiere　de　l'Est；　between　suffering　on　the　one　hand　and　death　on　the　other；　a　city　sending　up　a　smothered　roar　like　Ocean　grumbling　at　the　foot　of　a　cliff；　as　if　to　let　you　know　that　〃I　am　here！〃
  When　the　sunlight　pours　like　a　flood　over　this　strip　of　Paris；　purifying　and　etherealizing　the　outlines；　kindling　answering　lights　here　and　there　in　the　window　panes；　brightening　the　red　tiles；　flaming　about　the　golden　crosses；　whitening　walls　and　transforming　the