"Your husband's virtue stands in the way, my dear."
She did not insist. Nevertheless, at this moment, she would have abandoned everything—family, children, house, fortune, honour—to follow Leonor and become the wife of a little architect with a still uncertain future. And then she would be the niece of Lanfranc, whose mother used to sell cakes to the children in the Place Notre-Dame at Saint-Lô! She had bought them from her when she was ten. Her aristocratic instinct revolted, but she looked at Leonor and reflected that the demigods were born of the peasant girls of Attica. She pursued her idea.
"Your mother must have been very beautiful."
"Who told you so? It's quite true."
She wished to go to the station alone, refused to be seen off.
"When shall I see you? You're not going to stay on in Paris?"
"No."
Leonor kept his word. He saw Hortense starting for the station, with red eyes, and an hour later he left in his turn.