Well, until then, who will take care of it?
MARTINEL
I, if it is agreeable. I am a free man, retired from business; and it will give me something to do, something to distract me. I am ready to take him with me at once, the poor little thing--[_looks at_ Mme. de Ronchard] unless Madame, who is so fond of saving lost dogs--
MME. DE RONCHARD
That child! I! Oh, that would be a piece of foolishness.
MARTINEL
Yet, Madame, if you care to have him, I will yield my right most willingly.
MME. DE RONCHARD
But Monsieur, I never said--
MARTINEL
Not as yet, true, but perhaps you will say it before very long, for I am beginning to understand you. You are an a.s.sumed man-hater and nothing else. You have been unhappy in your married life and that has embittered you--just as milk may turn upon its surface, but at the bottom of the churn there is b.u.t.ter of fine quality.
MME. DE RONCHARD [_frowns_]
What a comparison!--milk--b.u.t.ter--pshaw! how vulgar!
PEt.i.tPRe
But Clarisse--
MARTINEL
Here is your daughter.
SCENE V.
(_The same, and_ Gilberte _and_ Leon _who enter_ L.)
PEt.i.tPRe [_approaches Gilberte_]
Before seeing your husband again, if you decide to see him, it is necessary that we should decide exactly what you are going to say to him.
GILBERTE [_greatly moved, sits_ L. _of table_]
I knew it was some great misfortune.
MARTINEL [_sits beside her_]
Yes, my child; but there are two kinds of misfortune--those that come from the faults of men, and those that spring purely from the hazards of fate; that is to say, destiny. In the first case, the man is guilty; in the second case, he is a victim. Do you understand me?
GILBERTE
Yes, Monsieur.
MARTINEL
A misfortune of which some one person is the victim can also wound another person very cruelly. But will not the heart of this second wounded and altogether innocent, person bestow a pardon upon the involuntary author of her disaster?
GILBERTE [_in a sad voice_]
That depends upon the suffering which she undergoes.
MARTINEL Meanwhile, you knew that before Jean loved you, before he conceived the idea of marrying you, he had--an intrigue. You accepted the fact as one which had nothing exceptional about it.
GILBERTE
I did accept it.
MARTINEL
And now your brother may tell you the rest.
GILBERTE
Yes, Monsieur.
MARTINEL
What shall I say to Jean?
GILBERTE
I am too much agitated to tell you yet. This woman, of whom I did not think at all, whose very existence was a matter of indifference to me--her death has frightened me. It seems that she has come between Jean and me, and will always remain there. Everything that I have heard of her prophesies this estrangement. But you knew her--this woman did you not, Monsieur?
MARTINEL
Yes, Madame, and I can say nothing but good of her. Your brother and I have always looked upon her as irreproachable in her fidelity to Jean.
She loved him with a pure, devoted, absolute, and lasting affection. I speak as a man who has deplored deeply this intrigue, for I look upon myself as a father to Jean, but we must try to be just to everyone.
GILBERTE
And did Jean love her very much, too?
MARTINEL
Oh, yes, certainly he did, but his love began to wane. Between them there was too much of a moral and social distance. He lived with her, however, drawn to her by the knowledge of the deep and tender affection which she bestowed upon him.