Nothing offended the eye, nothing seemed out of place, in the young woman suddenly transported from a modest little chamber to a luxurious mansion; and no one, seeing her in her salon, dressed as a wealthy countess should be dressed, would have suspected that he had before his eyes the daughter of a bath keeper.
When Bathilde, on leaving the chapel, saw Léodgard hasten away without bestowing a glance upon her or addressing her a single word, her heart felt a cruel pang; but she succeeded in dissembling her pain; she said to herself that, after the honor that she had received, and now that her child had a name, and that she could look her father in the face without blushing, to abandon herself to her disappointment in love would be pure weakness, and that it behooved her thenceforth to show that she was worthy of the rank to which she had been raised. She said to herself, too, that the seduced girl, the mistress, must disappear before the legitimate wife; and she found strength in her soul to force back her suffering, and to show to those about her a tranquil brow, a self-possessed glance, and a pleasant smile.
Perhaps, in the depths of her heart, Bathilde hoped that her spouse would not always bear her ill will, that he would some day desire to see her to whom he had given his name.
But when weeks and months passed without a sight of Léodgard, she understood that his mind was definitely made up; that he had married her to satisfy his father's wishes, but that he proposed, by living apart from her, to prove to her that he had not contracted the marriage of his free will.
After installing Bathilde in the noble mansion on Place Royale, after handing her the documents which assured to her, and to her unborn child as well, an independent fortune, the old marquis had imprinted a kiss on the brow of his new daughter, and had left Paris for his estate in the country, taking with him old Hector and several of his oldest servants; the others had remained in the young countess's service.
As for Landry, his daughter's new position in the world satisfied his honor without dazzling his mind. But his good sense told him that the father of the Comtesse de Marvejols ought not to carry on a bathing establishment, and he lost no time in selling it.
On the day following her marriage, Bathilde went to her mother to ask her pardon and to entreat a renewal of her affection. But Dame Ragonde could not forgive even her own child. After listening coldly to her daughter's entreaties, she replied in a harsh, dry tone:
"I congratulate you on having become a countess; but I trust that it will not encourage other girls to imitate you!"
With that, she turned her back on Bathilde, who was fain to be content with her father's warm embrace.
Soon after, the old soldier and his wife started for Normandie.