But her indomitable vanity aroused within her the heroism of a gladiator dying on the arena, with a smile upon his lips.
Falling, she intended to fall gracefully.
“No one shall see me weep; no one shall hear me complain,” she said to her despondent father; “try to imitate me.”
And on her return to the Chateau de Courtornieu, she was a stoic.
Her face, although pale, was as immobile as marble, beneath the curious gaze of the servants.
“I am to be called mademoiselle as in the past,” she said, imperiously. “Anyone forgetting this order will be dismissed.”
A maid forgot that very day, and uttered the prohibited word, “madame.” The poor girl was instantly dismissed, in spite of her tears and protestations.
All the servants were indignant.
“Does she hope to make us forget that she is married and that her husband has deserted her?” they queried.
Alas! she wished to forget it herself. She wished to annihilate all recollection of that fatal day whose sun had seen her a maiden, a wife, and a widow.