“Your conduct has ruined me.”
One day her daughter could not refrain from replying:
“I suppose you would have pardoned the fault, had it enriched us.”
But these revolts of Valentine were rare, although her life was a series of tortures inflicted with inquisitorial cruelty.
Even the memory of Gaston had become a suffering.
Perhaps, discovering the uselessness of her sacrifice, of her courage, and her devotion to what she had considered her duty, she regretted not having followed him. What had become of him? Might he not have contrived to send her a letter, a word to let her know that he was still alive? Perhaps he was not dead. Perhaps he had forgotten her. He had sworn to return a rich man before the lapse of three years. Would he ever return?
There was a risk in his returning under any circumstances. His disappearance had not ended the terrible affair of Tarascon. He was supposed to be dead; but as there was no positive proof of his death, and his body could not be found, the law was compelled to yield to the clamor of public opinion.
The case was brought before the assize court; and, in default of appearance, Gaston de Clameran was sentenced to several years of close confinement.
As to Louis de Clameran, no one knew positively what had become of him. Some people said he was leading a life of reckless extravagance in Paris.
Informed of these facts by her faithful Mihonne, Valentine became more gloomy and hopeless than ever. Vainly did she question the dreary future; no ray appeared upon the dark horizon of her life.