“Feminine perversity,” thought Julien, “What can be the pleasure, what can be the instinct which induces them to deceive us.”
“I think you are both enlightened and at the same time blinded by your love,” he said to her with some coldness. “Your conduct to-day has been admirable, but is it prudent for us to try and see each other to-night? This house is paved with enemies. Just think of Elisa’s passionate hatred for me.”
“That hate is very like the passionate indifference which you no doubt have for me.”
“Even if I were indifferent I ought to save you from the peril in which I have plunged you. If chance so wills it that M. de Rênal should speak to Elisa, she can acquaint him with everything in a single word. What is to prevent him from hiding near my room fully armed?”
“What, not even courage?” said Madame de Rênal, with all the haughtiness of a scion of nobility.
“I will never demean myself to speak about my courage,” said Julien, coldly, “it would be mean to do so. Let the world judge by the facts. But,” he added, taking her hand, “you have no idea how devoted I am to you and how over-joyed I am of being able to say good-bye to you before this cruel separation.”