"Why?" asked Perrine.
"Because he could not see how few people came to the church. What indifference his men have shown! If he could have seen that empty church it would have added to his grief."
"I think he must have known how few there were there," said Perrine. "His ears take the place of his eyes, and that empty silence could not deceive him."
"Poor man," murmured Mlle. Belhomme; "and yet...."
She paused. Then, as she was not in the habit of holding anything back, she went on: "And yet it will be a great lesson to him. You know, my child, you cannot expect others to share your sorrows if you are not willing to share theirs.
"M. Vulfran gives his men what he considers their due," she continued, in a lower voice. "He is just, but that is all. He has never been a father to his men. He is all for business, business only. What a lot of good he could have done, however, not only here, but everywhere, if he had wished, by setting an example. Had he been more to his men you may be sure that the church would not have been as empty as it was today."
Perhaps that was true, but how it hurt Perrine to hear this from the lips of her governess, of whom she was so fond. If anyone else had said so she might not have felt it so deeply. Yes, undoubtedly it was too true.
They had been walking as they talked, and had now reached the schools where Mlle. Belhomme lived.
"Come in and we'll have luncheon together," she said. She was thinking that her pupil would not be allowed to take her accustomed place at the family table.
"Oh, thank you," said Perrine; "but M. Vulfran might need me."