Odette saw at the first glance that Paul knew her crime, and felt that every thing was at an end for her, but did not stir from where she stood, bravely awaiting the blow.
Mme. de Smarte welcomed M. Frager, and enquired after his mother. But all in the room felt the tragedy to come, and all held their breath as the young man began to speak.
"Madame," he said, bowing gravely to Mme. de Smarte, "only the importance of my errand excuses this late arrival. I hope you will forgive me, and grant me this request, that I may consider this house as my own for the next ten minutes."
All had risen to their feet, pale and trembling. All understood that the tempest had broken, and that the whispers about Odette were to be answered in this fatal hour. Adèle's heart swelled with sympathy and compassion for the betrayed husband, yet she dared not reply to him. Her husband, however, bowed to the young man in token of silent assent, and he continued slowly, "Madame, I have discovered a most abominable crime. The woman that bears my name has a lover; that lover is my mother's husband. I am ignorant of the exact length of time that my dishonor has lasted; but I know this, every one seeing me live under his roof and eat his bread, must have supposed my complaisant blindness was bought and paid for; that I, the son of one and the husband of the other, bargained with my mother's disgrace and my wife's virtue. God keep you all from such despair as mine. But if my happiness is gone for ever, I will at least preserve my honor."
Turning to Odette, he continued:
"As M. de Smarte has had the kindness to allow me to consider this house as my own, I order you out of it, and not only out of this house, but out of society. I want your degradation to be as public as your disgrace has been."
All were silent. Odette stood proudly defiant before them.
Pointing to the open door, Paul exclaimed, "Begone!"
A smile curled her lips. Rather die than let any one see the savage despair in her heart, she shrugged her shoulders, and passed through the groups to the door. On the threshold she turned and confronted them once more, then coolly took her shawl from a chair in the hall, threw it over her shoulders, and walked slowly down the avenue until she was lost to sight.
She sank on the grass by the road-side, saying, "There is nothing so grand as a good, noble man," and sat there a few minutes staring blankly into the darkness. She imagined she heard steps approaching; frightened, she rose and fled.