"I am sorry I let the luncheon hour go by. I hope you did not wait for me. I have brought you these flowers in the hope that you will excuse me."
"They are very beautiful," replied Berthe, burying her face in the bouquet and inhaling its subtle perfume.
The brilliant reds of the large flowers, so warm and rich in hue, seemed to accentuate all the coldness of her blond beauty. Her blue eyes had something metal lie in their depth, something steely, as though they had never felt the softening influence of a tear. And yet, from the manner in which she revelled in the musky, pungent odor of the flowers offered her by her husband, it was easy to detect an almost emotional nervousness. But there was no trace of this in the tone with which she asked:—
"Have you been out without eating?—That is very foolish.—Has your headache disappeared?—You must have slept badly last night, for I heard you walking about."
"Yes; I had a little attack of insomnia," replied Olivier, "but it is nothing. The open air on such a beautiful morning has put me all right again.—Have you seen Hautefeuille?" he added.
"No," she replied dryly. "Where could I see him? I have not been out."
"And he has not asked after me?"
"Not that I know of."
"He is perhaps also unwell," continued Olivier. "If you don't mind, I will go and ask after him."
He left the salon before he had finished speaking. The young woman remained with her forehead resting upon her hand in the same attitude. Her cheeks were burning, and although she was not weeping, her heart was swollen with grief, and her breathing was agitated and hurried. She became another woman with Olivier absent. Apart from him she could abandon herself completely to the strange sentiment that her husband inspired in her. She felt a sort of wounded and unrequited affection for him. Her feelings could not seek relief either in reproaches or in caresses. They were, therefore, in a constant state of mute irritation. Under such moral conditions Olivier's visibly partial affection for Pierre could not be very sympathetic to the young woman, particularly since their return to Cannes, which had delayed their return just at the moment she was longing to see her family again.