Mme. d'Escorval looked on with eyes dilated with terror. She seemed
to doubt her own sanity, and incessantly passed her hand across her
forehead, thickly beaded with cold sweat.
"What a night!" she murmured. "What a night!"
"I must remind you, Madame," said the priest, sympathizingly, but
firmly, "that reason and duty alike forbid you thus to yield to
despair! Wife, where is your energy? Christian, what has become of your
confidence in a just and beneficial God?"
"Oh! I have courage, Monsieur," faltered the wretched woman. "I am
brave!"
The abbe led her to a large arm-chair, where he forced her to seat
herself, and in a gentler tone, he resumed:
"Besides, why should you despair, Madame? Your son, certainly, is with
you in safety. Your husband has not compromised himself; he has done
nothing which I myself have not done."
And briefly, but with rare precision, he explained the part which he and
the baron had played during this unfortunate evening.
But this recital, instead of reassuring the baroness, seemed to increase
her anxiety.
Pages:
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293