If M. de Clameran detested the countess, Mme. de la Verberie execrated the marquis. If he nicknamed her “the witch,” she never called him anything but “the old gander.”
And yet they should have agreed, for at heart they cherished the same opinions, with different ways of viewing them.
He considered himself a philosopher, scoffed at everything, and had an excellent digestion. She nursed her rancor, and grew yellow and thin from rage and envy.
Nevertheless, they might have spent many pleasant evenings together, for, after all, they were neighbors. From Clameran could be seen Valentine’s greyhound running about the park of La Verberie; from La Verberie glimpses were had of the lights in the dining-room windows of Clameran.
And, as regularly as these lights appeared, every evening, the countess would say, in a spiteful tone:
“Ah, now their orgies are about to commence!”
The two chateaux were only separated by the fast-flowing Rhone, which at this spot was rather narrow.
But between the two families existed a hatred deeper and more difficult to avert than the course of the Rhone.
What was the cause of this hatred?
The countess, no less than the marquis, would have found it difficult to tell.