“It is one of those days on which both flowers and compliments are of bad augury. I will wager that these camellias conceal some bad news.”
“That is true.”
“The nature of it?”
“I hardly know how to inform you.”
“You are about to be married: is it not so?”
“Yes. Who could have told you?”
“I have known it for more than two weeks. I found a letter from your father in the pocket of your coat. You need not attempt to excuse yourself. I know all you could say.”
“I shall not attempt to justify myself,” replied Eusebe, affecting a tranquillity of mind which he was far from possessing. “I take a wife because a man must discharge the duties he owes to society.”
“You see, my dear Eusebe,” continued the actress, “we are thought to be hardened, to have no heart,—we women of the theatre. Nothing could be further from the truth. I loved you because I thought you a man of sense and of courage. How grossly I was deceived! You are a fool and a coward!”