master ... I can exact from you what I like and when I like ... and I
have the law ... on my side."

He was trying to crush her fingers in the strong grip of his large,
muscular hand, and she, livid with pain, tried in vain to free them from
that vice which was crushing them; the agony made her pant, and the
tears came into her eyes. "You see that I am the master, and the
stronger," he said. And when he somewhat loosened his grasp, she asked
him: "Do you think that I am a religious woman?"

He was surprised and stammered: "Yes." "Do you think that I could lie if
I swore to the truth of anything to you, before an altar on which
Christ's body is?" "No." "Will you go with me to some church?" "What
for?" "You shall see. Will you?" "If you absolutely wish it, yes."

She raised her voice and said: "Philip!" And the coachman, bending down
a little, without taking his eyes from his horses, seemed to turn his
ear alone towards his mistress, who went on: "Drive to St.
Philip-du-Roule's." And the victoria, which had got to the entrance of
the Bois de Boulogne, returned to Paris.

Husband and wife did not exchange a word during the drive, and when the
carriage stopped before the church, Madame de Mascaret jumped out, and
entered it, followed by the count, a few yards behind her. She went,
without stopping, as far as the choir-screen, and falling on her knees
at a chair, she buried her face in her hands. She prayed for a long
time, and he, standing behind her, could see that she was crying. She
wept noiselessly, like women do weep when they are in great, poignant
grief. There was a kind of undulation in her body, which ended in a
little sob, which was hidden and stifled by her fingers.