I loved her; in that passion all else was lost.

She had confessed love for me; in that was all the heaven I desired.

Little by little she fanned within my heart a hatred for the man whose wife she was, my comrade in arms.

I cannot relate the details, the stories of wrong, the lies, the upbraidings which turned my blood to flame, picturing him ever to me as a monster.

Ah, it means much, Monsieur, when such things are told with tears, when every sob rings in the ears as though crying for vengeance.