"Most assuredly. I knew him before you did. Did you ever know in what straitened circumstances your mother-in-law was left after the death of her husband? Did Albert ever tell you of her devotion, of the privations which that splendid woman went through to bring him up, and of his industrious youth, so full of effort and so productive at an age when the rest of us are wasting our days? Why did not you go to seek the advice of Mme. Derize?"
He became more animated than if he were at the bar. It was an indication that he was not unconcerned about her. And if he were interested in her, why this awkward intervention? Our feelings have a singular manner of expression. She lowered her tone of voice and said quite naturally:
"I have my own parents. And then, I have never been concerned in his family affairs."
She brought him back to the question. He looked at her, her flushed face, quiet and peaceful, her beautiful hair, too neatly arranged, her calm eyes, and the little narrow forehead shut like a forbidden door. And from that moment, irritated by that peremptory tone, and by his memories, he pleaded his friend's cause, not with his usual weapons; irony, wit and logic, but with sharpness and bitterness, almost with the eloquence which he detested:
"In marriage, he brought to you a name almost famous; it has since become so as a result of his work and his talent which are equivalent to a fortune. It is an unusual opportunity for a woman—for a rich young woman, to enter so broad and varied a life, constantly changing, in touch with all the great minds of the day, and with all the important contemporary events. It is something to excite curiosity and interest wherever one goes, merely to have to open one's eyes and ears to receive the best teaching: that which comes to us from contact with powerful minds—to be thus connected with all the general life of one's time. It seems to me there is no fate more to be envied. Most of your friends, I am sure, only vegetate in mediocrity."
"They have their husbands all to themselves."
That was quite a feminine answer. "Life in general," "the great contemporary events," were words devoid of meaning to her,—even rather ridiculous in comparison with happiness. Elizabeth had not married to help her husband exert an influence, to play a part in his life, but merely in order to find happiness. What did this lawyer mean to convey with all his exaggerated conceptions? And now he was continuing:
"The husband that a wife has all to herself, Madame, is a poor creature. A woman's life may be complete with love. Men must have other aims. There is none higher than Albert's."
"Yes, he is following a fine career."
Philippe Lagier, in order to hear her explanation, hazarded: "He was more in the public eye, more exposed than others. Perhaps your happiness needed some supervision."