grew at these deceiving appear-ances stamped upon her, and without knowing what I did I went up to her and closed my hands upon her throat and pressed with all the strength I had. She opened her eyes and gave me a look full of astonishment and wonder, then closed them again and yielded up her breath without attempting resistance. Yes — she died as though she were sinking into a beautiful dream. But a drop of blood seeped from her mouth as I pressed upon her, and fell on my hand, at the spot where I showed you the pain. The next day we buried the body without stir or trouble, for I lived in the countryside, where there was no occasion for an examination of the body, since there was no one to doubt her death: she was my wife, and everyone knew the measure of our harmony and our devotion. For extra caution, I sent word of her death to all our friends and held a crowded funeral for her, so as to scatter the greatest of doubts. After the return from the burial there came that friend of hers

whom she had been visiting the day before, and she came up to me to pay the duty of condolence with a face on which the signs of great fear appeared. But I could not understand her words, so violent was her agitation. Then she took my hand between hers and said she wished to let me in on a secret, begging me to give it no importance, since it concerned her alone. She began her speech by praising my wife, saying she was the most trustworthy and truthful woman she had known to this day. For that reason she had entrusted to her a bundle of letters of her own, since she could not keep them in her own house... Then she asked me, in the name of the friendship that had been between them, to return them to her... My nerves gave way, my thoughts reeled, and I asked her what these letters contained. She trembled at the question and answered: Your wife, God rest her, never asked me about their contents; more than that, she promised me never to open them if that was my wish. I asked her where she used to keep

these letters. She directed me to where they were, in the drawer of the table we know... and said they were tied with a red ribbon, and that if I opened the drawer I would recognize them at once, and that they numbered thirty letters. I led her to the room where the table stood with the letters in it, opened the drawer, took the bundle from it, and handed it to her, asking: Are these the letters? She went through them with all eagerness, while I bowed my head for fear she would see on my face what would betray me. Then she set them in order and went back the way she had come, with thanks.

A week passed, and then the pain invaded my hand at the spot where the drop of blood had fallen on that ill-omened night. I could not rid myself of it; it was my punishment for the savagery that lost me my pure wife, loving and chaste. So I will attempt no further treatment. I have resolved to follow her, and to ask her forgiveness. And I am certain that she will grant my plea, and will love me as she did before.

So thank you, and farewell.