at ease and depressed, and went and threw myself on my bed, where I
buried my head in the clothes so as to stifle the customary sobs, those
pitiless conquerors of my pride and my rage.




XIV

The next day I was in a state of gloomy despair; Edmee was icily cold;
M. de la Marche did not come. I fancied I had seen the abbe going
to call on him, and subsequently telling Edmee the result of their
interview. However, they betrayed no signs of agitation, and I had
to endure my suspense in silence. I could not get a minute with Edmee
alone. In the morning I went on foot to M. de la Marche's house. What I
intended saying to him I do not know; my state of exasperation was such
that it drove me to act without either object or plan. Having learnt
that he had left Paris, I returned. I found my uncle very depressed.
On seeing me he frowned, and, after forcing himself to exchange a few
meaningless words with me, left me to the abbe, who tried to draw me
on to speak, but succeeded no better than the night before. For several
days I sought an opportunity of speaking with Edmee, but she always
managed to avoid it. Preparations were being made for the return to
Sainte-Severe; she seemed neither sorry nor pleased at the prospect.
I determined to slip a note between the page of her book asking for an
interview. Within five minutes I received the following reply:

"An interview would lead to nothing. You are persisting in your boorish
behaviour; I shall persevere in what I believe to be the path of
integrity. An upright conscience cannot go from its word. I had sworn