"The miserable wretch! He is thinking of that creature's honor!"
And turning toward her daughter, she encouraged her in her refusal.
"You are not to have conditions imposed upon you, you are only to dictate them. The judges, when they hear of your husband's behavior ... will not fail to give over the children to you. How could they place them, if only for a few days, in the care of a man who has remorselessly abandoned them and at present thinks only of his mistress? A bad husband makes a bad father."
"The judges do not willingly deprive a father of the right to take care of his children."
"He himself has forfeited that right. Did he raise any objection when my daughter went away? And does he not declare his willingness to give them up forever—forever! if we will protect the honor of this compromised woman? Isn't that monstrous?"
"You are misconstruing Albert's feelings, Madame. There are self-imposed obligations which a gallant man cannot fail to meet without losing his self-respect."
"He has only the obligations of his home," said Mme. Molay-Norrois.
Philippe, addressing Mme. Derize, read a brief excerpt from one of Albert's two letters.
"And suppose it were from tender memory, from pious deference that he refused to dispute with their mother about the care of the children? Suppose he evidenced thereby hiss continued affection, his confidence? As to the allowance which he means to give them, he begs you to fix the amount."
As he concluded this sentence relating to the financial advantages, to which she had never as yet given a thought, the young woman gave expression to her revolt: