'And I entirely agree with him in that,' declared Abbé Faujas, folding his napkin.
She fixed her eyes upon him, and turned very pale as she murmured in a low voice:
'What! Do you also want to send me away from Plassans? Oh! I should die in a strange land far away from all my old associations, and far away from those I love.'
The priest had risen from his seat, and was about to leave the dining-room. He stepped towards her, and said with a smile:
'Your friends only think of what is good for your health. Why are you so rebellious?'
'Oh! I don't want to go! I don't want to go!' she cried, stepping back from him.
There was a short contest between them. The blood rushed to the Abbé's cheeks, and he crossed his arms, as though to withstand a temptation to strike Marthe. She was leaning against the wall, in despair at her weakness. Then, quite vanquished, she stretched out her hands, and stammered:
'I beseech you to allow me to remain here. I will do whatever you tell me.'
Then, as she burst into sobs, the Abbé shrugged his shoulders and left the room, like a husband fearing an outbreak of tears. Madame Faujas, who was tranquilly finishing her dinner, had witnessed the scene and continued eating. She let Marthe cry on undisturbed.
'You are extremely unreasonable, my dear child,' she said after a time, helping herself to some more sweetmeats. 'You will end by making Ovide quite detest you. You don't know how to treat him. Why do you refuse to go away from home, if it is necessary for your health? We should look after the house for you, and you would find everything all right and in its place when you came back.'