somebody else, and that, in all probability, it would be soon divulged.
Madam de Cleves thought much after the same manner; she found it equally impossible that her husband should, or should not have spoken of it. What the duke de Nemours had said to her, that curiosity might make a husband do indiscreet things, seemed so justly applicable to monsieur de Cleves's condition, that she could not think he said it by chance; and the probability of this made her conclude, that monsieur de Cleves had abused the confidence she had placed in him. They were so taken up, the one and the other, with their respective thoughts, that they continued silent a great while; and when they broke from this silence, they only repeated the same things they had already said very often; their hearts and affections grew more and more estranged from each other.
It is easy to imagine how they passed the night; monsieur de Cleves could no longer sustain the misfortune of seeing a woman, whom he adored, in love with another; he grew quite heartless, and thought he had reason to be so in an affair where his honour and reputation were so deeply wounded: he knew not what to think of his wife, and was at a loss what conduct he should prescribe to her, or what he should follow himself; he saw nothing on all sides but precipices and rocks: at last, after having been long tossed to and fro in suspense, he considered he was soon to set out for Spain, and resolved to do nothing which might encrease the suspicion or knowledge of his unfortunate condition. He went to his wife, and told her, that what they had to do was not to debate between themselves who had discovered the secret; but to make it appear, that the story which was got abroad, was a business in which she had no concern; that it depended upon her to convince the duke de Nemours and others of it; that she had nothing to do but to behave herself to him with that coldness and reserve which she ought to
