"No, monsieur, such obstinacy!" said the Baroness, interrupting him to put an end to his absurdity.
"Yes, obstinacy," said he, "and love; but something stronger still—a claim——"
"A claim!" cried Madame Hulot, rising sublime with scorn, defiance, and indignation. "But," she went on, "this will bring us to no issues; I did not ask you to come here to discuss the matter which led to your banishment in spite of the connection between our families——"
"I had fancied so."
"What! still?" cried she. "Do you not see, monsieur, by the entire ease and freedom with which I can speak of lovers and love, of everything least creditable to a woman, that I am perfectly secure in my own virtue? I fear nothing—not even to shut myself in alone with you. Is that the conduct of a weak woman? You know full well why I begged you to come."
"No, madame," replied Crevel, with an assumption of great coldness. He pursed up his lips, and again struck an attitude.
"Well, I will be brief, to shorten our common discomfort," said the Baroness, looking at Crevel.
Crevel made an ironical bow, in which a man who knew the race would have recognized the graces of a bagman.
"Our son married your daughter——"
"And if it were to do again——" said Crevel.