He heard M. de Cleves say to his wife:

'But why do you not wish to return to Paris? What can keep you in the country? For some time now you have shown a fondness for solitude that surprises and pains me, since it keeps us apart. I even find you more than usually sad and I'm afraid that you have some secret sorrow.'

'I have nothing distressing on my mind,' she answered, uneasily. 'But the turmoil of the court is so great and there are always so many people at your house, that it is inevitable one should grow weary in body and mind, and wish to rest.'

'Rest,' he replied, 'is hardly natural for someone of your age. Your activities, both at home and at court, are not such as to exhaust you, and what I find more worrying is that you may be only too pleased to be separated from me.'

'You would be most unjust, were you to think that,' she returned, with increasing embarrassment. 'But I beg you to leave me here. If you could stay with me, I should be overjoyed, provided you stayed alone and did not want to be surrounded by that endless crowd of people, who hardly ever leave you.'

'Ah, madame!' M. de Cleves exclaimed. 'Your manner and your words tell me that you have some reason for wishing to be alone that I do now know, and I implore you to say what it is.'

He urged her for a long time to give him her reason, though he could not force her to do so. And, after resisting in a way that only excited his curiosity still further, she lapsed into a deep silence, with downcast eyes; then suddenly, looked up at him and spoke:

'Do not oblige me,' she said, 'to admit something to you that I do not have the strength to admit, though I have many times intended to do so. Only consider that it is unwise for a woman my age, who is mistress of her own conduct, to remain exposed in the midst of the court.'

'What are you trying to suggest, madame?' M. de Celves exclaimed. 'I am afraid that I might offend you if I were to put it in words.'

Mme de Cleves said nothing and her silence confirmed what her husband was thinking.

'You do not answer,' he went on. 'And that means that I am correct.'

'So be it, then,' she replied, throwing herself at his feet. 'I am going to make a confession to you that no wife has ever made to her husband; but the innocence of my conduct and of my intentions gives me strength. It is true that I have reason to leave the court and that I wish to avoid the dangers that sometimes threaten the women of my age. I have never given the slightest sign of weakness and I should not fear to exhibit any if you were to allow me to retire from court, or if I still had Mme de Chartres's help to guide me. Perilous though it is, I am happy to take this court so that I may keep myself worthy to belong to you. I beg you a thousand times to forgive me, if my feelings displease you, but at least I shall never displease you by my actions. Consider that, to do what I am now doing, one must have more affection and esteem for a husband than a wife has ever had. Guide me, have pity on me, and love me still, if you can.'

Throughout this speech, M. de Cleves had remained with his head in his hands and beside himself, without thinking to help his wife up.

La Princesse de Cleves is another on the list of French Literature class's books. It was a short read. The beginning dragged out too much but once the story took off, I enjoyed reading it. I did, of course, hate the ending.