“My reputation is gone,” she moaned.
“No, dear aunt, no; do not be alarmed about that. No one has had occasion to observe you as I have; it was only a dreadful thought which penetrated my mind in spite of my endeavors to dispel it. Have courage: we two can fight the world and silence our enemies. You shall be saved, aunt: only trust in me.”
The Marquis of Clameran was agreeably surprised that evening by receiving a letter from Mme. Fauvel, saying that she consented to everything, but must have a little time to carry out the plan.
Madeleine, she said, could not break off her engagement with M. Bertomy in a day. M. Fauvel would make objections, for he had an affection for Prosper, and had tacitly approved of the match. It would be wiser to leave to time the smoothing away of certain obstacles which a sudden attack might render insurmountable.
A line from Madeleine, at the bottom of the letter, assured him that she fully concurred with her aunt.
Poor girl! she did not spare herself. The next day she took Prosper aside, and forced from him the fatal promise to shun her in the future, and to take upon himself the responsibility of breaking their engagement.
He implored Madeleine to at least explain the reason of this banishment, which destroyed all of his hopes for happiness.
She quietly replied that her peace of mind and honor depended upon his blind obedience to her will.
He left her with death in his soul.
As he went out of the house, the marquis entered.