Fortunately Simone overpowered both Rose and Odette with her chatter. She was as well-informed, as in the time of peace, of everything that went on in private life. Mathilde Aviron—another Germaine Le Gault—was in love with a deputy.
"But," said Odette, "she lost her husband only four weeks after me."
"That is two years and two months ago, my dear!"
"That is true."
"It all depends on circumstances. They are going to be married, it appears.—And that poor Ogivier is slowly wasting away, in solitary misery, because his wife believes herself called to be heroic in the hospitals! Opinions differ; some say: 'She is doing right. What would you have? Ogivier is fifty-five years old; he is useless——'"
"But after all, he is her husband. Are her services indispensable in the hospitals?"
"No one is indispensable, every one says."
"Well, then?"
"Well, then, it is war. Some forget their duties, others don't know where they are. Mme. de Gaspari is absolutely bent upon making shells. She used to shed perfume at fifteen paces; she had her hair waved by X., and the beautiful hands that you remember—Some one has given her a chance in a factory! And how many things are happening that no one talks about! There are husbands who were in love with their wives, and who after the wives have been doing service in the hospitals, no longer feel the same toward them. It is not their fault! I know some who did not in the least object to it; but love is what it can be; many love in their wives only an illusion pleasing to themselves, such, for example, as that a wife should come physically near only to her husband. When their wives come back after having spent whole days—perhaps nights—in those hospital rooms—what would you hear? Every one cannot get over a painful impression simply by the aid of reason."
"And what about the girls who do the same?"