“Yes—certainly, certainly! It will be a good riddance, won’t it? And you’ll have the pleasure of seeing me as a bride!”
Their voices were rising in spite of their efforts to restrain them. However, Camille paused and drew breath before hissing out the words: “Gerard is coming here to ask for my hand in a day or two.”
Eve, livid, with wildly staring eyes, did not seem to understand. “Gerard? why do you tell me that?”
“Why, because it’s Gerard who loves me and who is going to marry me! You drive me to extremities; you’re for ever repeating that I’m ugly; you treat me like a monster whom nobody will ever care for. So I’m forced to defend myself and tell you the truth in order to prove to you that everybody is not of your opinion.”
Silence fell; the frightful thing which had risen between them seemed to have arrested the quarrel. But there was neither mother nor daughter left there. They were simply two suffering, defiant rivals. Eve in her turn drew a long breath and glanced anxiously towards the adjoining room to ascertain if anyone were coming in or listening to them. And then in a tone of resolution she made answer:
“You cannot marry Gerard.”
“Pray, why not?”
“Because I won’t have it; because it’s impossible.”
“That isn’t a reason; give me a reason.”
“The reason is that the marriage is impossible that is all.”