'If the house is not yet sufficiently quiet for you, just tell me, and I will go away myself.'
She half rose from her seat, and a light glistened in her eyes. Mouret had wounded her so cruelly that she stretched out her hand as though she were going to throw the water-bottle at his head. In her long-submissive nature angry promptings were now being fanned into life, and she was growing to hate this man who was ever prowling round her. She made a show of eating again, but she said nothing further about her daughter. Mouret had folded his napkin, and remained sitting in front of her, listening to the sound of her fork, and casting lingering glances round the dining-room, which had once been so merry with the chatter of the children, but was now so empty and mournful. The room seemed to him to be quite chilly, and tears were mounting to his eyes when Marthe called to Rose to bring in the dessert.
'You must be very hungry, I should think, madame,' said the cook, as she put a plateful of fruit upon the table. 'We had quite a long walk; and if the master, instead of playing the pagan, had come with us, he would not have left you to eat the mutton all by yourself.'
Then she changed the plates, without pausing in her chatter.
'It is very pretty is that chapel of Saint-Januarius, but it is too small. Did you see that the ladies who came late were obliged to kneel down outside on the grass, in the open air? I can't understand why Madame de Condamin came in a carriage. There's no merit in making the pilgrimage if you come like that. We spent a delightful morning, didn't we, madame?'
'Yes, a very delightful morning,' Marthe replied. 'Abbé Mousseau, who preached, was very affecting.'
When Rose in her turn noticed Désirée's absence and learnt of the girl's departure, she exclaimed:
'Well, really, it was a very good idea of the master's! She was always walking off with my saucepans to water her plants. We shall be able to have a little peace now.'
'Yes, indeed,' said Marthe, who was cutting a pear.