In the afternoon we met them again. There was a gay crowd of people walking, and our friends, in the midst of a group, were coming up toward us. There was no possibility, at either side, of avoiding the meeting, for the place was narrow, and we were compelled to pass each other slowly. I could perceive, from the way in which Astræa's cheeks kindled, that she was resolved to put her schoolfellow's friendship to the proof at once. I anticipated the result, but thought it best not to interfere, lest Astræa might suppose I shrank from the ordeal. We met face to face. The lady grew very white, and then red, and then white again, and caught her husband by the arm, and moved her lips as if she wished to appear to be speaking to him, although she did not utter a word. Astræa looked full into her eyes. Had the young wife seen a spectre from the grave, she could not have been more effectually paralyzed. That look seemed to turn her to stone. Not a single expression of greeting took place between them. Upon the husband's part, the feeling was even less equivocal. There was a dark, scowling frown upon his face as we came up; he looked straight at us--and walked on. These _insouciant_ men, who take the world so indifferently on ordinary occasions, are always the most fierce when roused. They hate the trouble of being obliged to act with decision, and when compelled to do so, they cut it short by an energetic demonstration, that they may fall back the sooner upon their habitual lassitude. We returned to our lodging with a clear sense of our position. Galled as I was on my own account, I felt it a hundred times more acutely on account of Astræa. Here was her young friend and enthusiastic disciple, who had always looked up to her with confidence and admiration, who had heard her story, and clung all the more lovingly and protectingly to her in pity for the unhappy circumstances in which she was placed, and this friend had now abandoned and disowned her!--a blow under which some women would have sunk at once, and which would have made others reckless and desperate. Upon Astræa it acted slowly and painfully. Externally it did not seem to affect her much; but I could perceive from that time a tendency to lapse into fits of silence, and a desire to be alone, which I had not noticed before. Whenever she alluded to her friend, she spoke of her as a weak person, who had never been remarkable for much character, with a kind heart and no understanding, and always carried away by the last speaker. Ascribing her inconsistency on this occasion to the influence of her husband, we agreed to dismiss the subject--not from our thoughts, that was impossible--but from our conversation. Astræa was bruised and hurt; and through all her efforts to conceal it, I saw that she suffered severely. It was the first touch she had directly experienced of the ice of the world's contumely, and it had struck in upon her heart.