dauphin asked them from whence they came; they said they came from madam de Cleves, where they had spent part of the afternoon with a great deal of company, and that they had left nobody there but the duke de Nemours. These words, which they thought so indifferent, were not such with monsieur de Cleves: though he might well imagine the duke de Nemours had frequent opportunities of speaking to his wife, yet the thought that he was now with her, that he was there alone, and that he might speak to her of his love, appeared to him at this time a thing so new and insupportable, that jealousy kindled in his heart with greater violence than ever. It was impossible for him to stay at the queen's; he returned from thence, without knowing why he returned, or if he designed to go and interrupt the duke de Nemours. He was no sooner come home, but he looked about him to see if there was anything by which he could judge if the duke was still there; it was some comfort to him to find he was gone, and it was a pleasure to reflect that he could not have been long there: he fancied, that, perhaps, it was not the duke de Nemours of whom he had reason to be jealous; and though he did not doubt of it, yet he endeavoured to doubt of it; but he was convinced of it by so many circumstances, that he continued not long in that pleasing uncertainty. He immediately went into his wife's room, and after having talked to her for some time about indifferent matters, he could not forbear asking her what she had done? and who she had seen? And accordingly she gave him an account. When he found she did not name the duke de Nemours, he asked her trembling, if those were all she had seen, in order to give her an occasion to name the duke, and that he might not have the grief to see she made use of any evasion. As she had not seen him, she did not name him; when monsieur de Cleves with accents of sorrow said, And have you not seen the duke de Nemours? or, Have you forgot him?—I have not seen him indeed,
