She did not let him see the slightest sign of vexation or reproach when he came in. Her rigid features remained just as cold and fixed as before. The two young people had begun this life of distant politeness in the early weeks of their married life. Of all forms of conjugal existence, this form is the most contrary to nature and the most exceptional in the beginning. The fact that a marriage has been a failure must be an accepted one before it is possible to realize that politeness is the sole remedy for incompatibility of temper. It, at any rate, reduces the difficulties of daily intercourse which is as intolerable when love is lacking as it is sweet and necessary in a happy marriage. But even in the most inharmonious households this very politeness often conceals in one of the two persons displaying it all the violence of passion, kept in check because misunderstood. Was this the case with Madame du Prat, with this child of twenty-two, with this woman so completely mistress of herself that she seemed to be naturally indifferent? Did she suffer because of her husband without showing it? The future would show. For the moment she was a woman of the world travelling, tranquil in aspect, who held up her forehead for the kiss of her lord and master, without a complaint, without a shade of surprise, even when he began:-- "I am sorry I let the luncheon hour go by. I hope you did not wait for me. I have brought you these flowers in the hope that you will excuse me." "They are very beautiful," replied Berthe, burying her face in the bouquet and inhaling its subtle perfume. The brilliant reds of the large flowers, so warm and rich in hue, seemed to accentuate all the coldness of her blond beauty. Her blue eyes had something metal lie in their depth, something steely, as though they had never felt the softening influence of a tear. And yet, from the manner in which she revelled in the musky, pungent odor of the flowers offered her by her husband, it was easy to detect an almost emotional nervousness. But there was no trace of this in the tone with which she asked:-- "Have you been out without eating?--That is very foolish.--Has your headache disappeared?--You must have slept badly last night, for I heard you walking about." "Yes; I had a little attack of insomnia," replied Olivier, "but it is nothing. The open air on such a beautiful morning has put me all right again.--Have you seen Hautefeuille?" he added. "No," she replied dryly. "Where could I see him? I have not been out." "And he has not asked after me?" "Not that I know of." "He is perhaps also unwell," continued Olivier. "If you don't mind, I will go and ask after him."