Loving and chaste wives and mothers are always most indulgent to those who have been led astray by the voice of passion.
Such noble women can, with impunity, despise and brave the prejudices of hypocrites.
These reflections made Maurice feel more tranquil in regard to Marie-Anne’s future, and he now thought only of his father.
Day was breaking; he declared that he would assume some disguise and go to Montaignac at once.
On hearing these words, Mme. d’Escorval turned and hid her face in the sofa-cushions to stifle her sobs.
She was trembling for her husband’s life, and now her son must precipitate himself into danger. Perhaps before the sun sank to rest, she would have neither husband nor son.
And yet she did not say “no.” She felt that Maurice was only fulfilling a sacred duty. She would have loved him less had she supposed him capable of cowardly hesitation. She would have dried her tears, if necessary, to bid him “go.”
Moreover, what was not preferable to the agony of suspense which they had been enduring for hours?
Maurice had reached the door when the abbe stopped him.
“You must go to Montaignac,” said he, “but it would be folly to disguise yourself. You would certainly be recognized, and the saying: ‘He who conceals himself is guilty,’ will assuredly be applied to you. You must go openly, with head erect, and you must even exaggerate the assurance of innocence. Go straight to the Duc de Sairmeuse and the Marquis de Courtornieu. I will accompany you; we will go in the carriage.”