It was broad daylight; the servants were going and coming in the house. Adeline arose at last and dressed herself mechanically; then sank back on the chair she had left; she no longer had any plans, desires, or hopes; she suffered, but she had ceased to think.
There came a light tap at her door; she roused herself from her depression, recalled what had happened, and awoke once more to the consciousness of her misery. She started to open the door, but paused near the threshold, detained by a sudden thought: suppose it were her husband! She felt that she could not endure his glance! she thought that he would read her shame upon her brow! Poor Adeline! you were not guilty and yet you trembled. What a contrast to what we see every day in society!
She heard a voice; it was her maid’s, asking her mistress if she might come in. Adeline took courage and opened the door.
“I beg pardon, madame,” said the servant, “but I was anxious about your health; it is very late, but you have not rung for me and you did not come down to breakfast.”
“Is it late, Marie? Has Monsieur Murville come in?”
“Yes, madame, monsieur came in a little while ago; he went to his room for a moment, then went right away again.”
“He has gone out, you say?”
“Yes, madame.”
Adeline breathed more freely; she felt less agitated; for now she dreaded the presence of the man for whom she had waited impatiently a few hours before.
Marie glanced at her mistress; she saw that she was pale and changed, and she sighed and pitied her; she thought that her husband’s conduct was the cause of Madame Murville’s grief. Servants are the first to criticise their masters’ conduct; they see everything, nothing escapes them; no man is a hero to his valet, and very few husbands are faithful in their servants’ eyes.