“Bertrand,” the mother cried in an agony of entreaty, “what is it?”
He stood quite still for a moment or two, and looked at her as if he thought her crazy for asking such a question. Then he came farther into the room, threw his whip down on the table and pulled off his gloves: but still he said nothing. His mother and Nicolette watched him; but Marcelle did not ask again. She just waited. Presently he sat down on the chair by the hearth, rested his elbows on his knees and held his hands to the blaze. Nicolette from where she stood could only see his face in profile: it looked cold and pinched and his eyes stared into the fire.
“It is all over, mother,” he said at last, “that is all.”
Marcelle de Ventadour went up to her son, and put her thin hand on his shoulder.
“You mean——?” she murmured.
“Mme. de Mont-Pahon,” he went on in a perfectly quiet, matter-of-fact tone of voice, “has left the whole of her fortune to her great-niece Rixende absolutely. Two hours after the reading of the will, M. de Peyron-Bompar came to me and told me in no measured language that having heard in what a slough of debt I and my family were wallowing, he would not allow his daughter’s fortune to be dissipated in vain efforts to drag us out of that mire. He ended by declaring that all idea of my marrying Rixende must at once be given up.”
Here his voice shook a little, and with a quick, impatient gesture he passed his hand across his brows. Marcelle de Ventadour said nothing for the moment. Her hand was still on his shoulder. Nicolette, who watched her closely, saw not the faintest sign of physical weakness in her quiet, silent attitude. Then as Bertrand was silent too, she asked after awhile:
“Did you speak to Rixende?”
“Did I speak to Rixende?” he retorted, and a hard, unnatural laugh broke from his parched, choking throat. “My God! until I spoke with her I had no idea how much humiliation a man could endure, and survive the shame of it.”
He buried his face in his hands and a great sob shook his bent shoulders. Marcelle de Ventadour stared wide-eyed into the fire, and Nicolette, watching Tan-tan’s grief, felt that Mother Earth could not hold greater misery for any child of hers than that which she endured at this moment.