Chapter XXXIX

           

           WhenIlefthim,afterwehadburiedpoorBlanche,Stroevewalkedintothehousewithaheavyheart.Somethingimpelledhimtogotothestudio,someobscuredesireforself-torture,andyethedreadedtheanguishthatheforesaw.Hedraggedhimselfupthestairs;hisfeetseemedunwillingtocarryhim;andoutsidethedoorhelingeredforalongtime,tryingtosummonupcouragetogoin.Hefelthorriblysick.Hehadanimpulsetorundownthestairsaftermeandbegmetogoinwithhim;hehadafeelingthattherewassomebodyinthestudio.Herememberedhowoftenhehadwaitedforaminuteortwoonthelandingtogethisbreathaftertheascent,andhowabsurdlyhisimpatiencetoseeBlanchehadtakenitawayagain.Toseeherwasadelightthatneverstaled,andeventhoughhehadnotbeenoutanhourhewasasexcitedattheprospectasiftheyhadbeenpartedforamonth.Suddenlyhecouldnotbelievethatshewasdead.Whathadhappenedcouldonlybeadream,afrightfuldream;andwhenheturnedthekeyandopenedthedoor,hewouldseeherbendingslightlyoverthetableinthegraciousattitudeofthewomaninChardin’sBenedicite,whichalwaysseemedtohimsoexquisite.Hurriedlyhetookthekeyoutofhispocket,opened,andwalkedin.

           Theapartmenthadnolookofdesertion.Hiswife’stidinesswasoneofthetraitswhichhadsomuchpleasedhim;hisownupbringinghadgivenhimatendersympathyforthedelightinorderliness;andwhenhehadseenherinstinctivedesiretoputeachthinginitsappointedplaceithadgivenhimalittlewarmfeelinginhisheart.

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