Gabrielle drew back a little; she did not attempt to defend herself, or to deny anything. She merely met Jean’s eyes.
A long silence fell between them. Jean breathed quickly, he tried not to throw himself at her feet. It was he who felt ashamed.
Then she said, with all the exquisite proud gentleness of a friend who has been cruelly wronged. “Alors, c’est fini, Jean?”
She stood there still, but it seemed to Jean as if all the light had gone out of the room. He moved towards the door without answering her; but as he reached it he turned back and looked at her as if he would keep her face forever in his eyes.
“C’est fini, Madame,” he muttered, but she did not need his words to see that it was finished.
Gabrielle stood quite still for a moment after he had left her.
“Pauvre petit Jean!” she murmured softly. “He came straight from Heaven—but alas! men like that are never very practical. They serve God better than they serve women!”
Then she knocked at the door which led to Flaubert’s bedroom.
“Bon, mon ami,” she called, “it is all over, I have dismissed him. I fancy the sprained ankle of Prince Rudolph has recovered by now. It will not be necessary for you to go to Torialli—for I have an idea he is out. There is just half an hour before the pupils come.”
It has been said already that Madame Torialli never wasted her time.