‘Oh,’ said Mary, ‘I am the worst person in the world; in fact, I cannot remember anything that I have said; but I told him that he must leave you and never see you any more.’
‘Oh, mimi! never!’
Madame de Frontignac sat down on the side of the bed with such a look of utter despair as went to Mary’s heart.
‘You know that that is best, Verginie, do you not?’
‘Oh! yes, I know it; but it is like death to me! Ah, well, what shall Verginie do now?’
‘You have your husband,’ said Mary.
‘I do not love him,’ said Madame de Frontignac.
‘Yes; but he is a good and honourable man, and you should love him.’
‘Love is not in our power,’ said Madame de Frontignac.
‘Not every kind of love,’ said Mary, ‘but some kinds. If you have an indulgent friend who protects you, and cares for you, you can be grateful to him; you can try to make him happy, and in time you may come to love him very much. He is a thousand times nobler man, if what you say is true, than the one who has injured you so.’