"Since he is incurable," she thought, "what is the use of making him suffer? Have I not proved that I could do nothing? Has he not told me, and, alas! almost proved it to me, that I was stifling his genius by seeking to cure his fever? When I thought that I had succeeded in disgusting him with dissipation, did I not discover that he was more greedy of it than ever? When I said to him: 'Go back into the world,' he dreaded my jealousy, and plunged into mysterious and degrading debauchery; he returned home drunk, with torn clothes, and blood on his face!"
On the day of Laurent's departure, Palmer asked Thérèse:
"Well, my friend, what do you propose to do? Shall I go after him?"
"No, certainly not!" she replied.
"Perhaps I could bring him back."
"I should be in despair if you did."
"Then you no longer love him?"
"No, not in the least."
There was a pause, after which Palmer continued in a thoughtful tone:
"Thérèse, I have some very important news for you. I hesitate, because I fear to cause you additional emotion, and you are hardly in condition——"