She had her two elbows on her knees in a pose of meditation and was digging the sand with the point of her sunshade.
“I left because I had troubles.... A friend in whom I had faith and who betrayed me shamefully.”
“Ah!... I am very sorry for you!” said he.
She looked up to the heavens in a melancholy ecstasy. A dewy languor appeared about her eyelashes. She was transfigured by sorrow. In her little starched collar which was so modern and masculine, her features assumed, in her affliction, the air of a perverse holiness.
“And so you had a great deal of trouble?” M. Raindal said again, without taking his eyes off her.
“Oh yes, a great deal!”
“My poor friend!” murmured the master, whose voice was altered. “You will allow me to call you this?”
Mme. Chambannes nodded.
“I do want to ask you any more about your departure!” he continued. “I have hurt you unwittingly, and it would be inexcusable if I were to insist ... but, in future, if ever you are unhappy, I beg of you, do treat me as a friend, confide in me. You need not give me any details; just tell me that you are suffering, and I shall do my very best to lighten your burden, to find distractions for you.... I have so much affection for you....”
“Thank you!” she said, somewhat surprised at the urgent tone he was using. “Thank you.... How kind you are, dear master.”