She resisted with so much firmness and indignation that Louis was astonished, and for a time nonplussed; though he by no means let the subject drop, but seized every opportunity of impressing upon her tortured mind that Raoul’s salvation depended entirely upon her.
“No,” she would always reply, “no! Never will I be so base and perfidious to my husband!”
Unfortunate woman! little did she know of the pitfalls which stand ever ready to swallow up wanderers from the path of virtue.
Before a week had passed, she listened to this project, which at first had filled her with horror, with a willing ear, and even began to devise means for its speedy execution.
Yes, after a cruel struggle, she finally yielded to the pressure of Clameran’s politely uttered threats and Raoul’s wheedling entreaties.
“But how,” she asked, “upon what pretext can I receive Raoul?”
“It would be the easiest thing in the world,” replied Clameran, “to admit him as an ordinary acquaintance, and, indeed, to place him on the same footing which I myself occupy—that of an intimate friend and habitue of your drawing-rooms. But Raoul must have more than this; he needs your constant care.”
After torturing Mme. Fauvel for a long time, he finally revealed his scheme.
“We have in our hands,” he said, “the solution of this problem, which may be so easily reached that I regard it as an inspiration.”
Mme. Fauvel eagerly scanned his face as she listened with the pitiable resignation of a martyr.