Women -- France -- Fiction; Women's rights -- Fiction
As soon as we were alone Patience proceeded to the point; he began by a
series of questions to which I resolved to submit, so that I might the
more quickly obtain some light on the state of affairs around me.
“Will you kindly inform me, monsieur,” he said, “what you purpose doing
now?”
“I purpose remaining with my family,” I answered, “as long as I have
a family; and when this family is no more, what I shall do concerns no
one.”
“But, sir,” replied Patience, “if you were told that you could not
remain under the same roof with them without causing the death of one or
the other, would you persist in staying?”
“If I were convinced that this was so,” I rejoined, “I would not appear
in their presence. I would remain at their door and await the last
day of their life, or the first day of their renewed health, and again
implore a love I have not yet ceased to deserve.”
“Ah, we have come to this!” said Patience, with a smile of contempt. “I
should not have believed it. However, I am very glad; it makes matters
clearer.”
“What do you mean?” I cried. “Speak, you wretch! Explain yourself!”
“You are the only wretch here,” he answered coldly, at the same time
sitting down on the one stool in the cottage, while I remained standing
before him.
I wanted to draw an explanation from him, at all costs. I restrained my
feelings; I even humbled myself so far as to say that I should be ready
to accept advice, if he would consent to tell me the words that Edmee
had uttered immediately after the event, and those which she had
repeated in her hours of delirium.
“That I will not,” replied Patience sternly; “you are not worthy to hear
any words from that mouth, and I shall certainly never repeat them to
you. Why do you want to know them? Do you hope to hide anything from men
hereafter? God saw you; for Him there are no secrets. Leave this place;
stay at Roche-Mauprat; keep quiet there; and when your uncle is dead and
your affairs are settled, leave this part of the country. If you take my
advice, you will leave it this very day. I do not want to put the law on
your track, unless your actions force me. But others besides myself,
if they are not certain of the truth, have at least a suspicion of
it. Before two days have passed a chance word said in public, the
indiscretion of some servant, may awaken the attention of justice, and
from that point to the scaffold, when a man is guilty, is but a single
step. I used not to hate you; I even had a liking for you; take this
advice, then, which you say you are ready to follow. Go away at once, or
remain in hiding and ready for flight. I do not desire your ruin; Edmee
would not desire it either--so--do you understand?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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