He had forgotten where they were, forgotten their danger even. The woman had not. She thrust her chin in her palms, her elbows on her knees, and searched the path to the castle with anxious eyes. Her nerves were aching now with the strain of delay and uncertainty, and because her nerves ached so, she prodded back at him again with her vicious question, viciously asked, “Do you think yours is the only life to be ruined?”
Crespin crouched over towards her like some jungle beast crouching to spring. “Ah!” he snapped. “There we have it! I’ve not only offended your sensibilities; I’m in your way. You love this other man, this model of all the virtues!”
His wife made no pretense of not understanding him. “You have no right to say that,” she said simply.
Crespin disregarded her protest—if it was protest she had deigned to make—as he must have disregarded any interruption now that was less than some yielding, some warming of hers.
“He’s a paragon!” he pounded on. “He’s a wonder! He’s a mighty microbe-killer before the Lord; he’s going to work heaven knows what miracles, only he hasn’t brought them off yet. And you’re cursing the mistake you made in marrying a poor devil of a soldier-man instead of a first-class scientific genius. Come! Make a clean breast of it! You may as well!”
One word from her—just one word of denial—would have healed and helped him, and she knew, at least, that it would have slaked his angry fever. But she did not give that cup of cold water; perhaps because she held truth too sacred—the virtues are an almost supreme asset, but they can be terribly cruel, and they should not be made of cast-iron—perhaps because she had for him too little kindness left.
“Come on, Lu,” he urged. “Tell me. Do.”
“I have nothing to answer,” she returned without troubling to look at him even. “While I continue to live with you, I owe you an account of my actions—but not of my thoughts.”
“Your actions? Oh, I know very well you’re too cold—too damned respectable—to kick over the traces. And then you have the children to think of.”
“Yes,” the wife said sadly. “I have the children to think of. I have the children.”