“Leave me—I desire you to leave me. Do not disturb me. I do not want you. I cast you from me—I turn you out....”
“You are not in your right mind,” said Pepa sadly, “you can turn me out of the room—but not out of your heart.”
“Did you come here to mock me?” he went on wildly, “when I most deserve your respect.... What you have told me is a lie.”
“Ah! would to God it were!” said the poor woman clasping her hands. “My father told me the dreadful news this morning; but I did not think he would dare to appear before me. But this evening, I was sitting in my room, and I heard a noise in the garden—I went to the window—I saw a man—it was he. The light from the hall lamp fell on his hated face—I saw him and knew him. I thought the earth would open and swallow me—I was shivering with cold and fear. I could not help running—running all over the house, and fancying I heard him close behind me and felt his hand on my shoulder. I rushed out of the back door—if there had been no door I must have jumped out of the window. I went into the yard—I could not stop—out into the street. There I took a hackney carriage and flew here to tell you. I waited a long time in the museum; then I was out of patience....”
“And the child?”
“She is not at home. I should have brought her with me if she had been; but Papa had taken her this evening to see Countess Vera. I had intended to go too—but I knew what was going on here and I could not bear to go into company; I said I was not well enough.”
“And what a time for coming here!” exclaimed Leon bitterly. “You cannot even comfort me.”
“Why, what do you object to in my presence?”
“It is a profanation, a scandal! I have no words for it; it fills me with a horror that I cannot overcome.”
“I am not to blame for what has happened.—It is God’s will and ordering.—But do not let us lose time in lamentations; let us consider, let us decide what we are to do.”