"Promise that you will not take
advantage of me." He readily promised, swearing that everything should
be as Marguerite wished. . . . But from that day they were no longer
seen in the gardens, nor wandering around persecuted by the winter
winds. They preferred the studio, and Argensola had to rearrange his
existence, seeking the stove of another artist friend, in order to
continue his reading.
This state of things lasted two months. They never knew what secret
force suddenly disturbed their tranquility. Perhaps one of her friends,
guessing at the truth, had told the husband anonymously. Perhaps it was
she herself unconsciously, with her inexpressible happiness, her tardy
returns home when dinner was already served, and the sudden aversion
which she showed toward the engineer in their hours alone, trying to
keep her heart faithful to her lover. To divide her interest between her
legal companion and the man she loved was a torment that her simple and
vehement enthusiasm could not tolerate.
While she was hurrying one night through the rue de la Pompe, looking at
her watch and trembling with impatience at not finding an automobile
or even a cab, a man stood in front of her. . . . Etienne Laurier! She
always shuddered with fear on recalling that hour. For a moment
she believed that he was going to kill her. Serious men, quiet and
diffident, are most terrible in their explosions of wrath.
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