“My child, you must promise me something.”
“Oh, Madame, I will promise you anything you like.”
“Try not to think about Marcel. You have no more right to. Accept your new life, as it is, without any regrets. God expects you to be brave enough to give up all your old dreams. You were wrong to make your husband change his career. Work is the true nobility of life. Help him to find some work, and atone for your mistake.”
“He has deserted me, Madame Guibert.”
“Idleness was perhaps the reason for that. Try to forgive him. Put your heart into your advice. Let him look after his estate, or interest himself in the affairs of the town. You will see that all is for the best. You may still be happy. Your daughter will help you. Is a woman ever to be pitied who has a child? Prepare this young life to be virtuous and strong. Love her, not for yourself but for herself. And God’s peace will rest on you.”
“Oh, if you would only have me here sometimes and talk to me,” said Alice eagerly, “I think I should take heart once more.” She never seemed to think that her presence might recall a painful memory to Madame Guibert. But it was only for a moment that the latter hesitated.
“Come here whenever you want me,” she answered simply.
When Madame de Marthenay had gone, Madame Guibert took Marcel’s photograph and placed it beside her bed, behind the screen.
“He will be nearer to me,” she thought. “And Alice will not see him again. She must not see his face if she is to do her duty bravely.”
Then she knelt and prayed: