derstood it but dimly. One thing was certain,—he had never for one moment ceased to adore Dea. He had been attacked by a violent disorder, his blood had been fevered; but it was over. Dea was his only thought now. Gwynplaine would have been much astonished had any one told him that Dea had been in danger, even for a moment; and in a week or two the phantom which had threatened the souls of both had faded away.
Besides, we have just said that "the duchess" did not return. Ursus thought that very natural. "The lady with the gold piece" is a phenomenon. She enters, pays, and vanishes. It would be too much joy were she to return.
As for Dea, she made no allusion to the woman who had appeared only to disappear. She was sufficiently enlightened, perhaps, by the sighs of Ursus, and now and then by some significant exclamation, such as, "One does not get ounces of gold every day." She never spoke of "that woman." This showed deep instinct. The soul takes many precautions in secrets which it does not even admit to be secrets. To be silent about any one seems to keep them afar off. One seems to fear that questions may call them back. We put silence between us, as if we were shutting a door.
So the incident sank into oblivion. Was it anything, after all? Had it ever occurred? Could it be said that a shadow had floated between Gwynplaine and Dea? Dea did not know it, nor did Gwynplaine. No; nothing had occurred. The duchess herself was blurred in the distant perspective like an illusion. It had been but a momentary dream, out of which Gwynplaine had speedily wakened. When it fades away, a reverie, like mist, leaves no trace behind; and when the cloud has passed, love shines out as brightly in the heart as the sun in the sky.
