She took the frame in her hands, she cast it upon the ground, trampling the glass beneath her feet, then she began to write, on the first blank sheet, one of those notes which passion alone dares to pen, which does not draw back at every word: "I know all.

For two years you have been my husband's mistress.

Do not deny it.

I have read the confession written by your own hand.

I do not wish to see nor to speak to you again.