The angry feelings shown by La Louve when she awoke from her dream to the reality, showed the effects or influence of the words of her companion. The more her regrets were bitter on awakening to the sense of her horrible position, the more the triumph of the Goualeuse was manifest.
After a moment of silent reflection, La Louve suddenly raised her head, passed her hand over her face, and arose from her seat, threatening and angry.
"You see that I had reason to avoid you, and not listen to you, because it only does me harm! Why have you talked in this way to me?— to laugh at me? to torment me? And because I was fool enough to tell you that I would like to live in a forest with Martial! But who are you, then? Why do you turn my head in this way? You do not know what you have done, unlucky girl! Now in spite of myself, I shall always be thinking of that wood, that house, those children, all that happiness, which I never shall have—never, never! And if I cannot forget what you have told me, my life will be a torment, a hell; and all by your fault—yes, by your fault!"
"So much the better!—oh! so much the better!" said Fleur-de-Marie.
"You dare to say so?" cried La Louve, with threatening eyes.
"Yes, so much the better; for if your miserable mode of living from henceforth proves a hell, you will prefer that of which I have spoken."
"And what good for me to prefer it, since I cannot enjoy it? why
regret being a girl of the streets, since I must die one?" cried La
Louve, more and more irritated, seizing hold of the small hand of
Fleur-de-Marie. "Answer—answer! Why have you made me wish for a life
I cannot have?"
"To wish for an honest and industrious life is to be worthy of such a life, I have told you," answered Fleur-de-Marie, without seeking to disengage her hand.
"Well, what then, when I shall be worthy? what does it prove? how advance me?"
"To see realized that which you regard as a dream," said Fleur-de-Marie, in a voice so serious and convincing that La Louve, again overpowered, abandoned the hand of La Goualeuse, and remained struck with astonishment. "Listen to me, La Louve," added Marie, in a voice full of compassion; "do not think me so cruel as to awaken in you these thoughts, these hopes, if I were not sure, in making you ashamed of your present condition, to give you the means to escape from it."