"Suppose I were to warn the prince?"
"Warn him? About what? It is either too late or too soon. If it is too late, nothing shall hinder me pursuing my aims; and, thanks to you, there will be a scandalous rupture between Pierre and me. If, on the contrary, it is too soon, you will do a bad action for the sake of doing it, for the prince has perfect confidence in me. He would not believe you, and I should start on my journey all the same. Come, mother, I advise you not to mix yourself up with my affair. I am married—that is, I have to render account of my conduct to my husband alone. When the day to do so shall come—if unhappily it should come ever—I shall know how to defend myself; I won't ask for your help. If you are willing you need say and stick to but one thing—that I am very far from well, and that as Doctor Psaroff, clever as he is, can do nothing for me, I am going to Paris to take the advice of more eminent men."
"Does the doctor believe you are unwell?"
"Can not women always be as ill as they wish to be, in spite of the keenest-sighted doctors?"
"Lise, there will be a bad ending to all this!"
"Fools alone make bad endings. Besides, I trust in Providence."
The dry, cutting, cynical tone of the princess in meeting each of her mother's objections left no room for insistence. Lise Olsdorf could be wounded on one point alone—her maternal love; but Mme. Podoi had omitted to speak of her son, whom she must leave in Russia. What she dreaded was that her daughter would lose the high position she had won for her. Her pride being touched, to begin with, she had not given a thought to the only weapon which she could have used with effect.
"Then, adieu," said she, rising; and without so much as kissing her daughter, she left the room.
The princess did not try to keep her, but went back to her packing.
She had made up her mind to take no servant with her, not even a lady's-maid, because to do so would be to risk exposure some day or other as to her condition.