have not killed the man who was her accomplice! You had a revolver and did not kill him? In my house — in my house." She sat down, not feeling able to do anything. He danced a caper, snapped his fingers, smacked his tongue, and, still laughing: "If you knew — if you knew — " II3 suddenly gave her a kiss. She tore herself away from h"m and in a voic3 broken with rage, she said: "I will not lei this girl remain one day longer in my house, do you hear? Not one day — not one hour. When she re- turns to the house, we will throw her out." M. Lercbour had seized his wife by the waist, end he planted rows of kisses on her neck, loud kisses, as in by- gone days. She became silent once more, petrified with astonishment. But he, holding her clasped in his arms, drew her softly toward the bed. ****** Toward half past nine in the morning. Celeste, astonished at not having yet seen her master and mistress, who al- ways rose early, came and knocked softly at their door.
They were in bed, and were gaily chatting side by side. She stood there astonished, and said; "Madame, it is the coffee."
Mme. Lerebour said in a very soft voice: "Bring it here to me, my girl. We are a little tired; we have slept very badly." Scarcely had the servant-maid gone than M. Lerebour began to laugh again, tickling his wife under the chin, and repeating: "If you knev;. Oh! if you knew." But she caught his hands: "Look here! keep quiet, my darling, if you laugh like this you will make yourself ill." And she kissed him softly on the eyes. ****** Mme. Lerebour has no more fits of sourness. Sometimes on bright nights the husband and wife come, wi'.h fur- tive steps, along the clumps of trees and flower-beds as far as the little conservatory at the end of the garden. And they remain there planted side by side with their faces pressed against the glass as if they were looking at something strange and full of interest going on within. They have increased Celeste's wages. But M. Lerebour has got thin. Letter Found on a Corpse You ask me, Madame, whether I am laughing at you? You cannot be- lieve that a man has never been smitten with love. Well, no, I have never loved, never! cannot tell. Never have I been under the influence of that sort of intoxica- tion of tha heart which we call love! Never have I lived in that dream, in that exaltation, in that state of madness What is the cause of this? I really into which the image of a womau casts
