Madame Guibert had listened without interrupting, and she answered simply:
“I thank you very much and I beg you to thank these ladies from me for their good intentions. We celebrated a service at Cognin according to our means. Our friends came in spite of the cold and the long distances. The general commanding here came in person. A great many officers would like to have accompanied him. We do not wish to have any other outward demonstrations. But I thank you.”
“Yes, Madame. I understand your feelings. Families do not willingly bear the intrusion of strangers in their mourning. But this is a special case. The death of Commander Guibert is a public misfortune. France is wounded by the death of your son. His life and his death do honor to Savoy. You cannot wonder that Savoy should publicly show him her great gratitude. The family resources are necessarily limited. Let us act. Do not deprive us of this pleasure.” ... And checking the inappropriate word as she uttered it, she corrected herself: “This melancholy pleasure, I would say, which is given us by intercession for the dead. Services and priests are prayers in themselves. Can so excellent Christians as you refuse those that we offer up for you? Have you the heart to prevent our sharing your sorrow with you?”
“The Church approves of ceremony and worship,” said Mademoiselle de Songeon, whose religion was luxurious and aristocratic.
Alice had noticed an enlarged photograph of Marcel, and at this moment saw only the man whom she had loved so unworthily.
Madame Guibert still hesitated, not about her answer, but about the words of the answer, which she wished to make as polite and delicate as she could. Madame Dulaurens had come to offer to supplement the simple funeral services at Cognin, devoid of all ostentation and parade, with a ceremony far less humble, one brilliant indeed and worldly. Wealth was visiting poverty and desiring to extend its patronage to it. Paule understood well, and indignantly glanced at her mother with those dark eyes of flashing light. But Madame Guibert had seen in this offer only respect for the memory of her son, and although she was resolved to negative any idea of a proceeding which she considered useless, she tried to avoid words which might cause the slightest offence.
Fearing her mother’s shyness and misled by her hesitation, the girl forestalled her boldly:
“We are much touched, Madame Dulaurens, by your offer. We value it as it should be valued and we regret having to decline this honor. My brother’s memory has received suitable recognition. We do not wish any more public testimony than what we have already received. God does not measure His blessings by the magnitude of the ceremonies.”
As if she attached no importance whatever to Paule’s declaration, Madame Dulaurens made as though to turn towards Madame Guibert. The latter quite comprehended and felt herself bound to say:
“Yes, Paule is right, Madame Dulaurens.”