Jeanne waited till he had finished. A bitter smile played on her lips.
Henceforth she would believe in no one. After listening to what Serge
had just said, she could listen to anything.

"So," said she, "the dream is love; the reality is interest. And is it
you who speak thus to me? You, for whom I was prepared to endure any
sacrifice! You, whom I would have served on my knees! And what reason
do you give to justify your conduct? Money! Indispensable and stupid
money! Nothing but money! But it is odious, infamous, low!"

Serge received this terrible broadside of abuse without flinching. He
had armed himself against contempt, and was deaf to all insults. Jeanne
went on with increasing rage:

"Micheline has everything: family, fortune, and friends, and she is
taking away my one possession--your love. Tell me that you love her!
It will be more cruel but less vile! But no, it is not possible!
You gave way to temptation at seeing her so rich; you had a feeling of
covetousness, but you will become yourself again and will act like an
honest man. Think, that in my eyes you are dishonoring yourself!
Serge, answer me!"

She clung to him again, and tried to regain him by her ardor, to warm him
with her passion. He remained unmoved, silent, and cold. Her conscience
rebelled.

"Well, then," said she, "marry her."

She remained silent and sullen, seeming to forget he was there. She was
thinking deeply. Then she walked wildly up and down the room, saying: