“At least I have learnt that lesson,” she said. “I should have been a fool if I hadn’t, for my life has been a sermon on the text.”
Professor Fortescue gave a little frown, as he often did when some painful idea passed through his mind.
“It is happening everywhere,” said Hadria, “the poor, sterile lives exhaust the strong and full ones. I will not be one of those vampire souls, at least not while I have my senses about me.”
Again, the little frown of pain contracted the Professor’s brow.
The dusk had invaded the dinner table, but they had not thought of candles. They went straight out to the still garden. Valeria had a fan, with which she vainly tried to overcome the expression of the atmosphere. She was very low-spirited. Hadria looked ill and exhausted. Little Martha’s name was not mentioned. It was too sore a subject.
“I can’t bear the idea of leaving you, Hadria, especially when you talk like that. I wish, how I wish, that some way could be found out of this labyrinth. Is this sort of thing to be the end of all the grand new hopes and efforts of women? Is all our force to be killed and overwhelmed in this absurd way?”
“Ah, no, not all, in heaven’s name!”
“But if women won’t repudiate, in practice, the claims that they hold to be unjust, in theory, how can they hope to escape? We may talk to all eternity, if we don’t act.”
Hadria shrugged her shoulders.
“Your reasoning is indisputable, but what can one do? There are cases——in short, some things are impossible!”