“Then I was overwhelmed with shame; I conceived a horror of that society, where, under the mask of love and friendship, I had found nothing but falseness and perfidy. But I wished to be able to weep over my victim’s grave, to be where I could go every day to beg his forgiveness for that terrible mistake which has left me a prey to everlasting remorse. That is why I bought this estate. I returned to this part of the country, not to cut a dash and give great parties, but to be near the unfortunate Adhémar’s grave.”
Thélénie listened to these last words without wincing, without the least trace of emotion. Her contracted eyebrows and the disdainful expression of her mouth alone disclosed the secret wrath which agitated her heart.
But when his master ceased to speak, Ami stepped nearer to the visitor and showed his teeth.
“My dog recognized you,” continued Paul; “he is able to distinguish unerringly between my friends and my enemies; he was always hostile to you, and I might have learned from him your real sentiments toward me. He is just the same to-day to you. Dogs do not change; they set a useful example to men; and that is the reason, I presume, why the latter beat them so often; they are humiliated to find in a beast virtues which they do not possess.—Now, madame, I fancy that you have nothing more to say to me, and I am glad to believe that you have no further business here.”
With that, Paul turned his back on Thélénie and walked away, motioning to his dog to follow him, which he did not do until he had walked around the amazon several times, growling most significantly.
Thélénie was furious; her pride was irritated by Monsieur Duronceray’s outspoken contempt. She had been so long accustomed to be flattered and adulated, that she longed to crush the man who had treated her so disdainfully.
Finding that she was alone in the courtyard, for Mère Lucas had retired long before, the magnificent creature struck with her crop everything within her reach; but her wrath expended itself on a few boxes of flowers and empty pots.
At last she left the place, returned to her horse which was tied to the gate, sprang to the saddle, gave him the rein and galloped away along the first road that she spied. That road was broad and smooth at first, but soon narrowed and became stony. On both sides rose hills in which the road was boxed, as it were; on these hills were trees whose shade imparted a gloomier and more melancholy aspect to the road.
“What a horrible path I chose!” said Thélénie to herself, with an indefinable feeling of alarm. “No one seems to be passing; I have lost my way; I certainly did not come this way. Come, Brillant! let us make haste to get out of here.—Well! what’s the matter with the beast? he won’t go forward a step! What are you afraid of, coward? Oh! I tell you that you’ve got to go on.”
As she spoke, she dealt the horse a violent blow on the side with her crop. But he, instead of going forward, jumped like a sheep, then shied so violently that, an excellent rider though she was, Thélénie lost her balance, fell backward and rolled on the ground at the foot of a cross standing by the roadside. It was that cross that had frightened her horse.