Unconsciously her voice rose warm and vibrating; her rather cold features beamed with a glow of honesty and rectitude and flushed with righteous indignation.
“Hush, hush,” said Numa pointing towards the door. Perhaps it was not perfectly just; he allowed that old Dansaert had rendered good service to his country; but what was to be done? He had given his word.
“Take it back,” said Rosalie. “Come, Numa, for my sake—I implore you!”
The tender request was emphasized by the gentle pressure of her little hand upon his shoulder. He was much touched. His wife had not seemed interested in his affairs of late; she had given only an indulgent but silent attention to his plans, which were ever changing their direction. This urgent request was flattering to him.
“Can any one resist you, my darling?”
He pressed upon her finger tips a kiss so fervid that she felt it all up her narrow sleeve. She had such beautiful arms! It was most painful, however, to say anything disagreeable to a man’s face and he rose reluctantly:
“I will be here, listening!” she said with a pretty threatening gesture.
He went into the next room, leaving the door ajar to give himself courage and so that she might hear all that was said. Oh, the beginning was firm and to the point!
“I am in despair, my dear Béchut—but it is utterly impossible for me to do for you as I promised—”
The answer of the professor was inaudible, but rendered in a tearful, supplicating voice through his huge tapir-like nose. To her surprise Roumestan did not waver, but began to sound the praises of Dansaert with a surprising accent of conviction for a man to whom all his arguments had only just been suggested. True, it was very hard for him to take back a promise once given, but was it not better than to do an act of injustice? It was his wife’s thought modulated and put to music and uttered with wide, heartfelt gestures that made the hangings vibrate.