She turned away her head, and, assuming her grand air, answered:
“I have acted as a woman of my rank should act; and I am surprised to find in you an advocate and abettor of misconduct.”
“Ah, madame,” said the doctor, “it is your place to show kindness to the poor girl; and if you feel none yourself, you have no right to complain of it in others. What indulgence do you expect from strangers toward your unhappy daughter, when you, her mother, are so pitiless?”
This plain-spoken truth offended the countess, and she rose to leave.
“Have you finished what you have to say, Dr. Raget?” she asked, haughtily.
“Yes, madame; I have done. My only object was to spare you eternal remorse. Good-day.”
The good doctor was mistaken in his idea of Mme. de la Verberie’s character. She was utterly incapable of feeling remorse; but she suffered cruelly when her selfish vanity was wounded, or her comfort disturbed.
She resumed her luxurious mode of living, but, having disposed of a part of her income, found it difficult to make both ends meet.
This furnished her with an inexhaustible text for complaint; and at every meal she reproached Valentine so unmercifully, that the poor girl shrank from coming to the table.
She seemed to forget her own command, that the past should be buried in oblivion, and constantly recurred to it for food for her anger; a day seldom passed, that she did not say to Valentine: