“But many of the books are in English ... in German even....”
“I know English and German.”
“Quite a learned person! But how well you would get on with my son! He is so studious and cultured! He writes for the Paris papers.... Not under his own name, of course: he would never consent to commit the name of La Vaudraye to an occupation which, after all, is only an amusement. He quite agrees with me on that question ... as on every other.... Why don’t you come to us one evening? We have a few friends who are pleased to make my drawing-room their daily meeting-place.... Everybody is dying to see you, Guillaume most of all....”
His mother’s description of young Guillaume de la Vaudraye was hardly of a nature to charm Gilberte from her isolation. She found an excuse.
“You are making a mistake,” cried Mme. de la Vaudraye, who was irritated by her refusal. “Good friends are a necessity: they protect you against evil tongues.”
“Evil tongues?”
“Yes, yes, you can understand that one can’t live as you do without attracting comment in a small town. People ask themselves—and not without some justice, as you must admit—the reason of your voluntary imprisonment. All the more so because, as I hear, your servant, Adèle, keeps a silent tongue in her head; and that sets public opinion against you. Lastly, they say....”
“What?”
“Well, they say that you are leading such a secret existence because....”
“Because what?”