Séverine, with restless eyes, gave a gesture of impatience.
"How could I leave you all alone?" she exclaimed.
"That isn't a reason," he replied. "During the three years we have been married, you have paid two visits of a week to Doinville. There was nothing to prevent you going there a third time."
The young woman, more and more uneasy, turned away her head.
"Well, I didn't care about it," said she. "You don't want to force me to do things that displease me."
Roubaud opened his arms, as if to say that he had no intention of forcing her to do anything. Nevertheless, he resumed:
"Look here, you are hiding something. Did Madame Bonnehon receive you badly the last time you went there?"
Oh! no; Madame Bonnehon had always welcomed her with great kindness, she was so amiable. Tall, and well developed, with magnificent light hair, she still remained beautiful, notwithstanding her fifty-five years. Gossip had it that since her widowhood, and even during the lifetime of her husband, her heart had frequently been occupied. They adored her at Doinville, where she made the château a perfect paradise. All Rouen society visited there, particularly the magistracy; and it was among this body that Madame Bonnehon had met with a great many friends.
"Then own that it was the Lachesnayes who gave you the cold shoulder," continued Roubaud.
It was true that since Berthe had married M. de Lachesnaye, she had not been on the same terms with Séverine as before. This poor Berthe, who looked so insignificant with her red nose, was certainly not improving in character. The ladies at Rouen extolled her noble bearing in no mean measure. But a husband such as she had, ugly, harsh, and miserly, seemed likely to communicate his bad qualities to his wife, and make her ill-natured. Still, Séverine had nothing in particular to reproach her with. Berthe had been agreeable to her former companion.