"Now, then, the duty of good friends is to speak frankly."
"Certainly, there is nothing more precious than sincere friends. Pray speak, Dame Petronille!"
"Very well, dear Marguerite; your absence from the funeral of poor Perrin Macé has been noticed. I attended the ceremony; you see it on my clothes. In my quality of a councilman's wife I felt bound to render this last homage to the memory of the poor victim of an iniquity."
"Madam ... I can only pity such a victim."
"And do you not revolt at the fate of the unfortunate man?"
"That great iniquity has revolted my husband. In his quality of the first magistrate of the town, he was bound to head the procession."
"First magistrate of the town!" rejoined Dame Petronille with ill-suppressed bitterness. "Yes, until his successor is elected. Any one of the councilmen can be chosen provost. The election decides that."
"Surely," answered Marguerite, exchanging looks with Denise who had resumed her sewing. "My husband's duty," continued Marcel's wife, "was first to protest against the crime of the Regent's courtiers by solemnly attending the funeral of Perrin Macé.... As to me, Dame Petronille, knowing that it is not the custom for women to assist at these sad ceremonies, I stayed at home."
"But do people care for custom in such grave circumstances?" cried Maillart's wife. "One consults only his heart, as I did. Dressed in black from head to foot, I joined the funeral procession, moaning and weeping all the tears I had. I thought I would let you know it as a friend, my dear Dame Marguerite. It is much to be regretted that you did not follow my example."
"Each is the judge of his own conduct, Madam."