“Your husband loves you——”
She straightened up. Her hands still over her eyes and a sob trembling on her lips.
“Your husband loves you,” repeated the Breton monotonously. “Your husband——”
She stamped her foot and fell again to weeping.
The Breton moved uneasily. A tenseness came into the lines about his mouth.
“Your husband——”
“What do you know about love?” she demanded in the midst of her sobs.
And presently the priest said: “It is something from God.”
“Yes!” she drawled with mocking, scornful bitterness. “Indeed! Why, I thought it was just a violet thrown in a rocky waste; a sunbeam cast upon the cold sea; dew dropped into the desert; a bundle of burnt prayers tossed upon the wind; a—a——” She choked, turned her face away and again tears gathered on her lashes.
Presently she began to sob softly, full of pain.