His mother wiped her face, on which tears and perspiration were mingled. Trembling she murmured:—
“Don’t regret anything. It is not worth while.”
“Why?” asked Paule surprised.
“They don’t want to separate themselves from their daughter. They think they love her all the more because of that.”
“And Alice?” asked Marcel’s sister.
“I did not see her. She is hiding. Or they are hiding her. Her parents had not been told about my visit. They were astonished. You would have had to promise them to stay at Chambéry, to resign, if necessary. I understood that a Marthenay would suit them better.”
Marcel’s eyes flashed, but all he said was “Oh!”
Madame Guibert began to tell about the humiliating way she had been questioned. But, made ungrateful by the pain which he felt and refused to admit, Marcel did not leave her time to do so.
“You did not understand how to talk to them! I’m sure of that. You don’t like them and you let them see it. You hate society and you ignore it.”
He had assumed his disdainful, haughty manner. Pride had opened the wound. The mother answered softly, but with deep sadness in her voice: