Suzanne reflected, without taking her eyes from Marthe, as though she were spying for a sign of uneasiness on her features or seeking to fathom the depths of her most secret thoughts.
She murmured:
"And, if he deceived you?"
This time, the thrust went home. Marthe shivered, stung to the quick. Her face altered. And she said, in a voice which she made an effort to contain:
"Oh, that, no! If Philippe fell in love with another woman, if he wanted to begin his life again, without me, and if he confessed it frankly, I should consent to everything ... yes, to everything, even to a divorce, however great my despair.... But treachery, lying ..."
"You would not forgive him?"
"Never! Philippe is not a man whom one can forgive. He is a conscious man, who knows what he is doing, incapable of a weakness; and no forgiveness would absolve him. Besides, I myself could not ... no ... I could not indeed." And she added, "I have too much pride."
The phrase was gravely and simply uttered and revealed a haughtiness of soul which Suzanne had not suspected. She felt a sort of confusion in the presence of the rival whom she was attacking and who held her at bay with such disdain.
A long silence divided the two women; and Marthe said:
"You're in one of your wicked moods to-day, Suzanne, aren't you?"