Adeline embraced her daughter; only by reminding herself that she was a mother could she succeed in reviving her vanishing courage. She made preparations for her departure for Villeneuve-Saint-Georges; she would have been glad to induce her mother to accompany her; but Mamma Germeuil cared very little for the country; she had her own habits, her acquaintances in Paris, and old age always grows selfish; she felt that she had but few pleasures left to enjoy, and she did not care to sacrifice any of them.
A week was sufficient for Adeline to prepare all that was necessary for her and her daughter in the country. At the end of that time, during which she caught a glimpse of her husband at rare intervals, she prepared to start. But before taking her leave, she determined to make a last effort, not to recover her husband’s love, for she well knew that that sentiment cannot be commanded, but to show him Dufresne as he really was. Edouard did not listen to her and refused to believe her when she mentioned the villain who was leading him on to his ruin; but Adeline thought of Madame Dolban; she thought that she would not refuse to write Murville another letter, wherein she would describe in detail the wickedness of the man whom he called his friend.
It was for Edouard’s honor and his good name that Adeline took this last step, which could not restore her happiness but would reassure her concerning the future of her husband.
The young wife went at once to Madame Dolban’s house and asked the concierge if she could see her.
“You come too late, madame,” the man replied; “Madame Dolban died three days ago!”
“She is dead! Why, she wrote to me only nine days ago!”
“Oh! mon Dieu! that’s the way things go in this world! A severe attack of fever, and then nervous collapse, and I don’t know what else. It carried her off right away.”
“All is lost,” said Adeline as she turned away; “there is no hope now of convincing Edouard. Dufresne triumphs. He will drag him to his destruction!”
Discouraged by this fresh disappointment, the griefstricken Adeline made haste to leave Paris; she started with her daughter for Villeneuve-Saint-Georges, and as she sat in the carriage, with none but her child to witness her grief, she thought of the difference between that journey and the journey of the preceding year, and she wept over the rapidity with which her happiness had vanished.