* * *
Several days after this, Raymonde timidly informed me that she had decided to accept every invitation in the future. I had been going about alone ever since I returned from the country. I objected that her health would not permit her to keep late hours, and besides that she had no taste for social functions. She insisted with an unexpected resolution, and I began to tease her about it:
“Why this sudden interest in society? People have grown quite accustomed to seeing me go about alone.”
“I am very anxious,” she said sweetly, “that they should expect to see me wherever they see you.”
I was at a loss to understand why she had suddenly determined to give up the solitude which she so much enjoyed, but I now know that she considered herself partly responsible for my intimacy with Mme. de H—; she felt that if she had tried to share my pleasures she might have been able to hold my interest. Her resolution was no doubt the result of some analysis and introspection, and she announced it to me after coming home from church, where she had gone to pray to God for courage to carry it out, even though it were to cost her all her rapidly declining strength.
And so she began to show again to the world her reserve and reticence.
* * *
I tactfully tried to avoid accepting invitations to houses where I was sure to meet Mme. de H—, who, realising my attitude, reproached me for what she did not hesitate to call my cowardice.
Humiliated by her scorn, and having no defence to offer, I agreed to go to a reception at the salon of Mme. de Saunois, who seemed destined to play an important part in our life drama, for it was through her that I had met Mme. de H—, three or four years before.
If Raymonde had been absolutely indifferent to me, I should not have felt so uneasy about the meeting. Her quiet sweetness sometimes soothed me when we were at home alone. Why did she not remain there, instead of going out into society with me, why did she not preserve that peace there for me when I was to feel the need of it? Our varied feelings and thoughts often make us appear inconsistent, yet one state of mind does not necessarily preclude its opposite. They may coexist, and indeed if they do not, we seldom reach our highest development. Yet when circumstances compel a choice and a sacrifice of the one or the other, we rebel against the hardship of a deprivation which our selfishness and egotism alone could never have prompted.