Monsieur de Cleves spoke to her, as a man of the greatest honour in the
world, and the best deserving the confidence she had reposed in him; "I
am not alarmed as to your conduct," said he, "you have more strength
and virtue than you imagine; I am not alarmed with fears of what may
happen hereafter; what troubles me is that I see you have those
sentiments for another which you want for me." "I don't know what to
answer you," said she, "I die with shame when I speak of this subject
spare me, I conjure you, such cruel conversations; regulate my conduct,
and never let me see anybody; this is all I desire of you; but take it
not ill of me, if I speak no more of a thing which makes me appear so
little worthy of you, and which I think so unbecoming me." "You are in
the right, Madam;" replied he, "I abuse your goodness and your
confidence in me; but have some compassion also on the condition you
have brought me to, and think that whatever you have told me, you
conceal from me a name, which creates in me a curiosity I cannot live
without satisfying; and yet I ask you not to satisfy it; I cannot,
however, forbear telling you, that I believe the man I am to envy is
the Mareschal de St. Andre, the Duke de Nemours, or the Chevalier de
Guise."
"I shall make you no answer," says she blushing, "nor give you
any ground from what I say, either to lessen or strengthen your
suspicions; but if you endeavour to inform yourself by observing me,
you will throw me into a confusion all the world will take notice of,
for God's sake," continued she, "allow me under pretence of an
indisposition to see nobody." "No, Madam," said he, "it will quickly
be discovered to be a feigned business; and besides, I am unwilling to
trust you to anything but yourself; my heart tells me this is the best
way I can take, and my reason tells me so also, considering the temper
of mind you are in, I cannot put a greater restraint upon you than by
leaving you to your liberty."
Monsieur de Cleves was not mistaken; the confidence he showed he had in
his wife, fortified her the more against Monsieur de Nemours, and made
her take more severe resolutions than any restraint could have brought
her to. She went to wait on the Queen-Dauphin at the Louvre as she
used to do, but avoided the presence and eyes of Monsieur de Nemours
with so much care, that she deprived him of almost all the joy he had
in thinking she loved him; he saw nothing in her actions but what
seemed to show the contrary; he scarcely knew if what he had heard was
not a dream, so very improbable it seemed to him; the only thing which
assured him that he was not mistaken, was Madam de Cleves's extreme
melancholy, which appeared, whatever pains she took to hide it; and
perhaps kind words and looks would not have increased the Duke of
Nemours's love so much as this severe conduct did.