"What has she to fear?" asked Jeanne, bitterly. "She triumphs, as she is his wife."
"If he were to abandon her," said the mother with anguish. Then, reflecting: "Still, he has sworn to me that he loved her."
"He lied!" cried Jeanne, with rage. "He wanted Micheline for her fortune!"
"But why that?" inquired Madame Desvarennes, menacingly. "Is she not pretty enough to have pleased him? Do you think that you are the only one to be loved?"
"If I had been rich he would have married me!", replied Jeanne, exasperated.
She had risen in revolt. They were treading too heavily on her. With a ferocious cry of triumph; she added:
"The night he used his influence with me to get me to marry Cayrol, he assured me so on his word of honor!"
"Honor!" ironically repeated Madame Desvarennes, overwhelmed. "How he has deceived us all! But what can I do? What course can I take? A separation? Micheline would not consent. She loves him."
And, in an outburst of fury, she cried:
"Is it possible that that stupid girl loves that worthless dandy? And she has my blood in her veins! If she knew the truth she would die!"