“Yes, yes,” shivered Clémence.
For a while—a very little while—the Marquis was silent; then he said—
“Luc will not be able to go to Madrid.”
“Ah!” she murmured.
“He wrote yesterday,” continued the Marquis, “to refuse the post. He will never be able to do any work again.”
Clémence clenched her hands on her lap.
“He is—not strong enough?”
“No.”
“He has—no career?”
“No.”