"Well, madam," he resumed, "I've seen the traffic-manager, and have persuaded him not to dismiss your husband. The matter is settled."
Then, in the flood of joy that overwhelmed her, she broke down. Her eyes were full of tears; but she answered nothing. She only smiled.
He repeated what he had said, laying stress on the phrase, to convey to her all its significance:
"The matter is settled; you can return in tranquillity to Havre!"
She heard well enough: he meant to say that they would not be arrested, that they were pardoned. It was not merely the position maintained, it was the horrible drama forgotten, buried. With an instinctive caressing movement, like a pretty, domestic animal that thanks and fawns, she bent over his hands, kissed them, kept them pressed to her cheeks. And this time, very much troubled himself at the tender charm of her gratitude, he did not withdraw them.
"Only," he continued, trying to resume his severity, "do not forget, and behave properly."
"Oh! sir!" she exclaimed.
In the desire to have them both at his mercy, he alluded to the letter.
"Remember that the papers remain there, and that at the least fault, the matter will be brought up again. Above all, advise your husband not to meddle in politics. On that point we shall be pitiless. I know he has already given cause for complaint; they spoke to me of an annoying quarrel with the sub-prefect. It seems that he passes for a republican, which is detestable, is it not? Let him behave himself, or we shall simply suppress him."