"What can you do?" she whispered.
"I will wait here. I must not go down," he replied. "It would mean ruin."
Ruin! ruin! Was she face to face with ruin already, she who, two minutes
ago, was as safe and happy as a young bird in its nest? He felt instantly
that he had made a mistake, had been cruel, though he had not intended
it.
"Ruin to me," he said at once. "Duclosse is a stupid fellow: he would not
understand; he would desert me; and that would be disastrous at this
moment. Go down," he said. "I will wait here, Elise."
Her brows knitted painfully. "Oh, monsieur, I'd rather face death, I
believe, than that you should remain here."
But he pushed her gently towards the door, and a moment afterwards he
heard her talking to Duclosse and her mother.
He sat down on the couch and listened for a moment. His veins were still
glowing from the wild moment just passed. Elise would come back--and
then--what? She would be alone with him again in this room, loving
him--fearing him. He remembered that once, when a child, he had seen a
peasant strike his wife, felling her to the ground; and how afterwards
she had clasped him round the neck and kissed him, as he bent over her in
merely vulgar fright lest he had killed her.
Pages:
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150