Camille cast on Beatrix the most sullen, savage look that female jealousy ever cast upon a rival.
“On that ground, I believed I stood alone,” she said. “Beatrix, those words of yours must separate us forever; we are no longer friends. Here begins a terrible conflict between us. I tell you now; you will either succumb or fly.”
So saying, Camille bounded into her room, after showing her face, which was that of a maddened lioness, to the astonished Beatrix. Then she raised the portiere and looked in again.
“Do you intend to go to Croisic to-morrow,” she asked.
“Certainly,” replied the marquise, proudly. “I shall not fly, and I shall not succumb.”
“I play above board,” replied Camille; “I shall write to Conti.”
Beatrix became as white as the gauze of her scarf.
“We are staking our lives on this game,” she replied, not knowing what to say or do.
The violent passions roused by this scene between the two women calmed down during the night. Both argued with their own minds and returned to those treacherously temporizing courses which are so attractive to the majority of women,—an excellent system between men and women, but fatally unsafe among women alone. In the midst of this tumult of their souls Mademoiselle des Touches had listened to that great Voice whose counsels subdue the strongest will; Beatrix heard only the promptings of worldly wisdom; she feared the contempt of society.
Thus Felicite’s last deception succeeded; Calyste’s blunder was repaired, but a fresh indiscretion might be fatal to him.