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