forthone　a　dwarf　and　the　other　a　colossal　limbinto　the　water；　and　the
  bell　tower；　almost　as　tall　as　the　cliff；　wide　below；　narrowing　at　the
  top；　raised　its　pointed　summit　to　the　sky。
  On　the　sands　beside　the　water　a　crowd　was　seated　watching　the　bathers。
  On　the　terrace　of；　the　Casino　another　crowd；　seated　or　walking；　displayed
  beneath　the　brilliant　sky　a　perfect　flower　patch　of　bright　costumes；　with
  red　and　blue　parasols　embroidered　with　large　flowers　in　silk。
  On　the　walk　at　the　end　of　the　terrace；　other　persons；　the　restful；　quiet
  ones；　were　walking　slowly；　far　from　the　dressy　throng。
  A　young　man；　well　known　and　celebrated　as　a　painter；　Jean　Sumner；　was
  walking　with　a　dejected　air　beside　a　wheeled　chair　in　which　sat　a　young
  woman；　his　wife。　　A　manservant　was　gently　pushing　the　chair；　and　the
  crippled　woman　was　gazing　sadly　at　the　brightness　of　the　sky；　the
  gladness　of　the　day；　and　the　happiness　of　others。
  They　did　not　speak。　　They　did　not　look　at　each　other。
  〃Let　us　stop　a　while；〃　said　the　young　woman。
  They　stopped；　and　the　painter　sat　down　on　a　camp　stool　that　the　servant
  handed　him。
  Those　who　were　passing　behind　the　silent　and　motionless　couple　looked　at
  them　compassionately。　　A　whole　legend　of　devotion　was　attached　to　them。
  He　had　married　her　in　spite　of　her　infirmity；　touched　by　her　affection
  for　him；　it　was　said。
  Not　far　from　there；　two　young　men　were　chatting；　seated　on　a　bench　and
  looking　out　into　the　horizon。
  〃No；　it　is　not　true；　I　tell　you　that　I　am　well　acquainted　with　Jean
  Sumner。〃
  〃But　then；　why　did　he　marry　her？　　For　she　was　a　cripple　when　she　married；
  was　she　not？〃
  〃Just　so。　　He　married　herhe　married　herjust　as　every　one　marries；
  parbleu！　because　he　was　an　idiot！〃
  〃But　why？〃
  〃But　whybut　why；　my　friend？　　There　is　no　why。　　People　do　stupid　things
  just　because　they　do　stupid　things。　　And；　besides；　you　know　very　well
  that　painters　make　a　specialty　of　foolish　marriages。　　They　almost　always
  marry　models；　former　sweethearts；　in　fact；　women　of　doubtful　reputation；
  frequently。　　Why　do　they　do　this？　　Who　can　say？　　One　would　suppose　that
  constant　association　with　the　general　run　of　models　would　disgust　them
  forever　with　that　class　of　women。　　Not　at　all。　　After　having　posed　them
  they　marry　them。　　Read　that　little　book；　so　true；　so　cruel　and　so
  beautiful；　by　Alphonse　Daudet：　'Artists'　Wives。'
  〃In　the　case　of　the　couple　you　see　over　there　the　accident　occurred　in　a
  special　and　terrible　manner。　　The　little　woman　played　a　frightful　comedy；
  or；　rather；　tragedy。　　She　risked　all　to　win　all。　　Was　she　sincere？　　Did
  she　love　Jean？　　Shall　we　ever　know？　　Who　is　able　to　determine　precisely
  how　much　is　put　on　and　how　much　is　real　in　the　actions　of　a　woman？　　They
  are　always　sincere　in　an　eternal　mobility　of　impressions。　　They　are
  furious；　criminal；　devoted；　admirable　and　base　in　obedience　to　intangible
  emotions。　　They　tell　lies　incessantly　without　intention；　without　knowing
  or　understanding　why；　and　in　spite　of　it　all　are　absolutely　frank　in
  their　feelings　and　sentiments；　which　they　display　by　violent；　unexpected；
  incomprehensible；　foolish　resolutions　which　overthrow　our　arguments；　our
  customary　poise　and　all　our　selfish　plans。　　The　unforeseenness　and
  suddenness　of　their　determinations　will　always　render　them　undecipherable
  enigmas　as　far　as　we　are　concerned。　　We　continually　ask　ourselves：
  'Are　they　sincere？　　Are　they　pretending？'
  〃But；　my　friend；　they　are　sincere　and　insincere　at　one　and　the　same　time；
  because　it　is　their　nature　to　be　extremists　in　both　and　to　be　neither　one
  nor　the　other。
  〃See　the　methods　that　even　the　best　of　them　employ　to　get　what　they
  desire。　　They　are　complex　and　simple；　these　methods。　　So　complex　that　we
  can　never　guess　at　them　beforehand；　and　so　simple　that　after　having　been
  victimized　we　cannot　help　being　astonished　and　exclaiming：　'What！　　Did
  she　make　a　fool　of　me　so　easily　as　that？'
  〃And　they　always　succeed；　old　man；　especially　when　it　is　a　question　of
  getting　married。
  〃But　this　is　Sumner's　story：
  〃The　little　woman　was　a　model；　of　course。　　She　posed　for　him。　　She　was
  pretty；　very　stylish…looking；　and　had　a　divine　figure；　it　seems。　　He
  fancied　that　he　loved　her　with　his　whole　soul。　　That　is　another　strange
  thing。　　As　soon　as　one　likes　a　woman　one　sincerely　believes　that　they
  could　not　get　along　without　her　for　the　rest　of　their　life。　　One　knows
  that　one　has　felt　the　same　way　before　and　that　disgust　invariably
  succeeded　gratification；　that　in　order　to　pass　one's　existence　side　by
  side　with　another　there　must　be　not　a　brutal；　physical　passion　which　soon
  dies　out；　but　a　sympathy　of　soul；　temperament　and　temper。　　One　should
  know　how　to　determine　in　the　enchantment　to　which　one　is　subjected
  whether　it　proceeds　from　the　physical；　from　a　certain　sensuous
  intoxication；　or　from　a　deep　spiritual　charm。
  〃Well；　he　believed　himself　in　love；　he　made　her　no　end　of　promises　of
  fidelity；　and　was　devoted　to　her。
  〃She　was　really　attractive；　gifted　with　that　fashionable　flippancy　that
  little　Parisians　so　readily　affect。　　She　chattered；　babbled；　made　foolish
  remarks　that　sounded　witty　from　the　manner　in　which　they　were　uttered。
  She　used　graceful　gesture's　which　were　calculated　to　attract　a　painter's
  eye。　　When　she　raised　her　arms；　when　she　bent　over；　when　she　got　into　a
  carriage；　when　she　held　out　her　hand　to　you；　her　gestures　were　perfect
  and　appropriate。
  〃For　three　months　Jean　never　noticed　that；　in　reality；　she　was　like　all
  other　models。
  〃He　rented　a　little　house　for　her　for　the　summer　at　Andresy。
  〃I　was　there　one　evening　when　for　the　first　time　doubts　came　into　my
  friend's　mind。
  〃As　it　was　a　beautiful　evening　we　thought　we　would　take　a　stroll　along
  the　bank　of　the　river。　　The　moon　poured　a　flood　of　light　on　the　trembling
  water；　scattering　yellow　gleams　along　its　ripples　in　the　currents　and　all
  along　the　course　of　the　wide；　slow　river。
  〃We　strolled　along　the　bank；　a　little　enthused　by　that　vague　exaltation
  that　these　dreamy　evenings　produce　in　us。　　We　would　have　liked　to
  undertake　some　wonderful　task；　to　love　some　unknown；　deliciously　poetic
  being。　　We　felt　ourselves　vibrating　with　raptures；　longings；　strange
  aspirations。　　And　we　were　silent；　our　beings　pervaded　by　the　serene　and
  living　coolness　of　the　beautiful　night；　the　coolness　of　the　moonlight；
  which　seemed　to　penetrate　one's　body；　permeate　it；　soothe　one's　spirit；
  fill　it　with　fragrance　and　steep　it　in　happiness。
  〃Suddenly　Josephine　（that　is　her　name）　uttered　an　exclamation：
  〃'Oh；　did　you　see　the　big　fish　that　jumped；　over　there？'
  〃He　replied　without　looking；　without　thinking：
  〃'Yes；　dear。'
  〃She　was　angry。
  〃'No；　you　did　not　see　it；　for　your　back　was　turned。'
  〃He　smiled。
  〃'Yes；　that's　true。　　It　is　so　delightful　that　I　am　not　thinking　of
  anything。'
  〃She　was　silent；　but　at　the　end　of　a　minute　she　felt　as　if　she　must　say
  something　and　asked：
  〃'Are　you　going　to　Paris　to…morrow？'
  〃'I　do　not　know；'　he　replied。
  〃She　was　annoyed　again。
  〃'Do　you　think　it　is　very　amusing　to　walk　along　without　speaking？　　People
  talk　when　they　are　not　stupid。'
  〃He　did　not　reply。　　Then；　feeling　with　her　woman's　instinct　that　she　was
  going　to　make　him　angry；　she　began　to　sing　a　popular　air　that　had
  harassed　our　ears　and　our　minds　for　two　years：
  〃'Je　regardais　en　fair。'
  〃He　murmured：
  〃'Please　keep　quiet。'
  〃She　replied　angrily：
  〃'Why　do　you　wish　me　to　keep　quiet？'
  〃'You　spoil　the　landscape　for　us！'　he　said。
  〃Then　followed　a　scene；　a　hateful；　idiotic　scene；　with　unexpected
  reproaches；　unsuitable　recriminations；　then　tears。　　Nothing　was　left
  unsaid。　　They　went　back　to　the　house。　　He　had　allowed　her　to　talk　without
  replying；　enervated　by　the　beauty　of　the　scene　and　dumfounded　by　this
  storm　of　abuse。
  〃Three　months　later　he　strove　wildly　to　free　himself　from　those
  invincible　and　invisible　bonds　with　which　such　a　friendship　chains　our
  lives。　　She　kept　him　under　her　influence；　tyrannizing　over　him；　making
  his　life　a　burden　to　him。　　They　quarreled　continually；　vituperating　and
  finally　fighting　each　other。
  〃He　wanted　to　break　with　her　at　any　cost。　　He　sold　all　his　canvases；
  borrowed　money　from　his　friends；　realizing　twenty　thousand　francs　（he　was
  not　well　known　then）；　and　left　them　for　her　one　morning　with　a　note　of
  farewell。
  〃He　came　and　took　refuge　with　me。
  〃About　three　o'clock　that　afternoon　there　was　a　ring　at　the　bell。　　I　went
  to　the　door。　　A　woman　sprang　toward　me；　pushed　me　aside；　came　in　and　went
  into　my　atelier。　　It　was　she！
  〃He　had　risen　when　he　saw　her　coming。'
  〃She　threw　the　envelope　containing　the　banknotes　at　his　feet　with　a　truly
  noble　gesture　and　said　in　a　quick　tone：
  〃'There's　your　money。　　I　don't　want　it！'
  〃She　was　very　pale；　trembling　and　ready　undoubtedly　to　commit　any　folly。
  As　for　him；　I　saw　him　grow　pale　also；　pale　with　rage　and　exasperation；
  ready　also　perhaps　to　commit　any　violence。
  〃He　asked：
  〃'What　do　you　want？'
  〃She　replied：
  〃'I　do　not　choose　to　be　treated　like　a　common　woman。　　You　implored　me　to
  accept　you。　　I　asked　you　for　nothing。　　Keep　me　with　you！'
  〃He　stamped　his　foot。
  〃'No；　that's　a　little　too　much！　　If　you　think　y