"She will not take it. She does nothing but fret for Monsieur, and say dreadful things about ma fille"—then she stopped in a fright, seeing her master.
"Where is Rose?" he asked.
"She has not been here all day. I sent Pani to look for her, but he has not returned."
M. Destournier went to his wife's room. She was hysterical and unreasonable.
"Promise me that such a miserable, deceitful thing as that girl is shall never enter this house," she cried. "I cannot breathe the same air with her. You must choose between us. If you keep to her, I shall know you have no love for me. I will kill myself."
"Marguerite, calm yourself. Rose is not to remain here, but go to the Héberts. So you will have quiet and nothing to do but recover your health. And if you can get well enough, we will go to Montreal, as I have to transact some business. The change will do you good."
"You will not take her?"
"No, no. Now let the girl alone. She is provided for, and you have the two women at your service."
"She did nothing for me. And after roaming the woods and canoeing with M. Boullé, she should have been glad to marry him, for decency's sake."
"We will let her quite alone," he exclaimed authoritatively. "Why did you not eat some supper?"