‘Was he your lover, mademoiselle?’ asked Adèle, suddenly looking into her companion’s eye.
‘He was my husband,’ was the reply.
Adèle uttered an exclamation.
‘Ah, that is different!’ she cried in wonder. ‘And—and—you left him, madame?’
‘Yes, Adèle.’
‘Although you loved him so much!’
‘Because I loved him.’
‘And does he live, madame?’
Again the softly summoned word ‘madame,’ so significant of a new curiosity and a new respect.
‘Yes, he lives, unless he has died of sorrow. I brought disgrace upon him; it was unhappy for him that we ever met; and so—I left him.’