And she showed it to me with an abandon that affected me strongly. I was disgusted with a husband whose letters to such a wife could be shown without embarrassment to the first comer.
The letter was cold, long and diffuse, the characters slender and tremulous, the orthography very doubtful. Here is the substance of it:
“You ought not to have any scruples about gaining your end. I have none whatever in employing the most rigid legal means. I refuse all other arrangements than those I have already proposed to the d’Aillanes, and I wish to see a termination to this law suit. You may, when it is once gained, extend a helping hand to them, I shall not oppose your generosity, but I wish for no compromise. Their lawyer has offended me in his address in the first place, and the appeal that they have lodged is presumptuous beyond belief. I find M. Nivières very sluggish, and I have expressed my displeasure through the mail to-day. Act, yourself, stimulate his zeal, unless some higher order should issue from ——. You know what I mean, and I am surprised that you say nothing to me about what may have been observed in the room—since my departure. Has no one had the courage to pass the night there and to write down what he may have heard? Must we depend alone on the assertions of the abbé de Lamyre, a man who does not speak seriously? Let some one worthy of belief attempt this proof, unless you have sufficient courage to do so yourself, which would not surprise me.”
As she read this last sentence, Madame d’Ionis burst out laughing.
“M. d’Ionis amuses me,” she said. “He flatters me so that he may induce me to attempt a thing that he would never think of doing himself, and he is indignant at the cowardice of people for whose benefit nothing would induce him to give such an example.”
“What I find most remarkable in this,” said I, “is M. d’Ionis’ faith in these apparitions, and his respect for the decisions he believes them capable of rendering.”
“You see now,” said she, “that this is the only means of subduing his rigor towards the poor d’Aillanes; I told you so, and I repeat it, and you will not lend yourself to it, when the opportunity is so fine. Since he is so anxious to receive the green ladies’ revelations perhaps he will not go so far as to ask you for your word of honor.”
“It seems to me, on the contrary, that I must seriously assume the role of imposter, since M. d’Ionis demands the assertion of a person ‘worthy of belief.’”
“And then you fear the ridicule, the blame, the jests that you would not fail to meet with; but I could answer for M. d’Ionis’ absolute silence so far as that is concerned.”
“No, madame, no! I would fear neither ridicule nor blame, as long as it was a question of obedience to your wishes. But you would despise me if I merited this blame by a false oath. Besides, why not try to induce the d’Aillanes to consent to a compromise conveying honorable conditions to themselves?”