"A wise and commendable inspiration seized me. I went to my mother, resolved to separate from my husband, and never to return to his house. 'But what will become of me?' said my mother. 'Sick and infirm as I am, poverty means death to me. Besides, my poor child, a separation is impossible. Your husband has a right to do this, so long as he does not bring this woman where you are; and as the law is on his side, and as he needs you, and is accustomed to your care and attentions when he is ill, he will not hear of a separation, and you will be obliged to remain with him. So make the best of it, my poor child. His infatuation for this creature will not last long. Sooner or later, your husband will return to you. Your patience and resignation will touch him; besides, he is in such poor health that this unfortunate affair is sure to be his last, so go on doing exactly as you have done in the past. In such cases, believe me, my child, a good woman suffers and waits and hopes.'"
"What! your mother dared to—"
"Do not censure her too severely, Florence. She has such a horror of poverty, quite as much on my account as on her own. Besides, does not her advice conform in every respect with reason, the law, and the opinion of the world in general?"
"What you say is only too true, alas!"
"Ah, well, so be it, I said to myself bitterly. All possibility of a self-respecting, rightful revolt against this disgraceful state of things being denied me, marriage becomes only a degrading servitude henceforth. I accept it. I shall experience all the degradation of a slave, but I will also practise a slave's perfidy and trickery. After all, degradation of soul has one advantage. It annihilates all remorse; it banishes every scruple. From this on, I will shut my eyes, and instead of struggling against the tide which is sweeping me on to ruin, I will yield myself to it."
"What do you mean?"
"It is now, Florence, that I need all your friendly indulgence. Up to this time I have deserved some interest and sympathy, perhaps, but now—"
The conversation was here interrupted by the entrance of Madame de Luceval's maid.
"What do you want?" asked Florence, impatiently.
"Here is a letter a messenger just brought from M. de Luceval, madame."