They tried to prove to each other that
Sauvresy was ridiculous and odious; as if they were absolved by his
deficiencies, if deficiencies he had. If indeed trustfulness is
foolishness, Sauvresy was indeed a fool, because he could be deceived
under his own eyes, in his own house, because he had perfect faith
in his wife and his friend. He suspected nothing, and every day he
rejoiced that he had been able to keep Tremorel by him. He often
repeated to his wife:
"I am too happy."
Bertha employed all her art to encourage these joyous illusions.
She who had before been so capricious, so nervous, wilful, became
little by little submissive to the degree of an angelic softness.
The future of her love depended on her husband, and she spared no
pains to prevent the slightest suspicion from ruffling his calm
confidence. Such was their prudence that no one in the house
suspected their state. And yet Bertha was not happy. Her love did
not yield her the joys she had expected. She hoped to be transported
to the clouds, and she remained on the earth, hampered by all the
miserable ties of a life of lies and deceit.
Perhaps she perceived that she was Hector's revenge on her husband,
and that he only loved in her the dishonored wife of an envied
friend.
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