At eight o’clock she had come down to give orders herself that a carriage should be sent to the station for the marchioness, adding that they must drive back as fast as they could. Then she had gone into the sitting-room to join her grandfather and her aunts. They talked to her; but her thoughts were elsewhere.
At last a carriage was heard coming up rapidly, and stopping before the house. She got up, rushed into the hall, and cried,—
“Here is Jacques’s mother!”
III.
We cannot do violence to our natural feelings without paying for it. The marchioness had nearly fainted when she could at last take refuge in the carriage: she was utterly overcome by the great effort she had made to present to the curious people of Sauveterre a smiling face and calm features.
“What a horrible comedy!” she murmured, as she sank back on the cushions.
“Admit, at least, madam,” said the lawyer, “that it was necessary. You have won over, perhaps, a hundred persons to your son’s side.”
She made no reply. Her tears stifled her. What would she not have given for a few moments’ solitude, to give way to all the grief of her heart, to all the anxiety of a mother! The time till she reached the house seemed to her an eternity; and, although the horse was driven at a furious rate, she felt as if they were making no progress. At last the carriage stopped.
The little servant had jumped down, and opened the door, saying,—
“Here we are.”