Marius set the candle on the object nearest to his hand, the spinet.
"Is this with my lord's knowledge?" he asked.
Their eyes met.
"No," came her strained voice. "I have run away, it was no longer bearable."
Marius was quite silent; his face, as she watched it, seemed to grow older, sterner, and anguished; as she saw his lips quiver she realised the utter wrong she offered him and remorse shook her. She dropped her head into her hands.
He went to the window and looked out; when she raised her eyes again she could see only his back.
"Are you not going to speak to me?" she asked; she resolved, even against the pang of her pity, that she would not spare him—neither him nor his brother, and she shuddered with the force of this resolve.
"You expect I shall plead with you to go back, madam," he answered without looking round.
Madam! but what had he called her in his surprise? The Countess rose, unfastened her hat and flung it on to the chair.
"I am not going back," she said. "If you drive me away, turn me by force from your door. I—well, I shall not go back."