"No, monsieur, it is not enough," retorted Florence. "I still have to remind M. d'Infreville that he is in my house, and that as he knows now what I think of him, he must realise that his presence is an intrusion here."
"You are right, madame; I have heard too much already," retorted M. d'Infreville, with a sardonic smile.
Then taking his wife roughly by the arm, he said:
"Come with me, madame."
The terrified woman, crushed by the burden of her shame, rose mechanically, with her face still buried in her hands.
"My mother, oh, my mother!" she murmured, despairingly.
"I will not desert you, Valentine!" exclaimed Florence, springing towards her friend.
But M. de Luceval, who was evidently very angry, seized his wife around the waist and held her as in a vice, saying as he did so:
"You dare to defy me in this fashion, do you, madame?"
M. d'Infreville took advantage of this opportunity to drag Valentine away, the unfortunate woman offering no resistance, but exclaiming, in a voice broken with sobs, as she disappeared from sight: