I think Madame Chéri was startled by the sight of the car, and perhaps by some queer look I had. I told her what had happened. This girl was the sister of Pierre Nesle, whom Madame Chéri had met. The crowd, for some reason, had cut off her hair. Would Madame save the poor child, who was unconscious?
I shall never forget the face or speech of that lady, whom I had found so kind. She drew herself up very stiffly and a relentless expression hardened her face.
“If you were not English I should say you desired to insult me, sir. The people have cut off the creature’s hair. ‘For some reason,’ you say. There is only one reason. Because she was faithless to her country and to her sex, and was familiar with men who were the enemies of France, the murderers of our men, robbers and assassins. She has been well punished. I would rather burn down my house than give her shelter. If they gave her to the dogs to tear in pieces I would not lift my little finger to save her.”
Hélène came in, and was surprised at the emotion of her mother’s voice.
“What is it, little maman?”
Madame Chéri regained control of herself, which for a moment she had lost in a passion that shook her.
“It is a little matter. This officer and I have been talking about vile people who sold themselves to our enemy. He understands perfectly.”
“I understand,” I said gravely. “There is a great deal of cruelty in the world, madame, and less charity than I had hoped.”
“There is, praise be to God, a little justice,” said Madame Chéri very calmly.
“Au revoir, madame!”