"You have an energetic nature," retorted the mistress, compassionately;
"but she is so weak, so gentle! Ah! Jeanne, think what I have been to
you; raise some insurmountable barrier between yourself and Serge!

"Go back to your husband. You would not go with him a little while ago.
It was folly. If you separate from Cayrol, you will not be able to keep
away Serge, and you will take my daughter's husband from her!"

"Ah! you think only of her! Her, always! She above all!" cried
Jeanne, with rage. "But me, I exist, I count, I have the right to be
protected, of being happy! And you wish me to sacrifice myself, to give
myself up to this man, whom I do not love, and who terrifies me?"

This time the question was plainly put. Madame Desvarennes became
herself. She straightened her figure, and in her commanding voice whose
authority no one resisted, said:

"What then? You wish to be separated from him? To regain your liberty
at the price of scandal? And what liberty? You will be repulsed,
disdained. Believe me, impose silence on your heart and listen to your
reason. Your husband is a good, loyal man. If you cannot love him, he
will command your respect. In marrying him, you have entered into
engagements toward him. Fulfil them; it is your duty."

Jeanne felt overpowered and vanquished. "But what will my life be?" she
groaned.

"That of an honest woman," replied Madame Desvarennes, with true
grandeur. "Be a wife; God will make you a mother, and you will be
saved."