“Yes, he was crying!”
“And why was he?”
She seemed very much perturbed. I replied:
“Because of you.”
“Because of me?”
“Yes. He was telling me how much he used to love you, and what it cost him to marry his present wife instead of you....”
Her pale face seemed to me to lengthen a little; her eyes, always open, her calm eyes closed suddenly, so quickly that they seemed to have closed for ever. She slipped from her chair to the floor, and collapsed there gently, gradually, as a fallen veil might have done.
I cried, “Help, help! Mademoiselle Perle is unwell.”
Madame Chantal and her daughters rushed to her, and, as they went for water and a napkin and vinegar, I got my hat and escaped.
I hurried away, my heart torn, my mind full of remorse and regret. And yet now and again I was glad; I felt as if I had done something commendable and necessary.