“That was, in fact, the decision my mother wanted us to make, I may tell you. We were on the point of letting justice take its course; and if it had not been for Anne and Marie.... But there is still time. Do not give your answer in a hurry: I will give you till to-morrow morning.” “I have my father still,” said Thérèse in a whisper. “Your father? But we’re in entire agreement. He has his career, his politics, the ideas he stands for: his only thought is to hush up the scandal at whatever cost. You must realise what he has done for you: it was entirely due to him that the enquiry came to nothing. Besides, he must have made his express wishes known to you.... Hasn’t he?” Bernard’s voice was no longer raised, he became almost courteous. It was not that he felt the slightest compassion. But this woman, whom he could not even hear breathing, was at last prostrate: she had found her true place. All was now in order. Another man’s peace of mind would not have survived such a blow: Bernard was proud to have made so successful a recovery: any one may be deceived; indeed everybody, for the matter of that, had been deceived by Thérèse, even Madame de la Trave, who was usually such a penetrating judge of character. The fact was that in these days people do not take sufficient account of principles: they no longer realise the dangers of an education, such as Thérèse had received; a perverted creature, no doubt; still, it is no use saying,--“if she had believed in God” ... fear is the beginning of wisdom. Such were Bernard’s thoughts. And he reflected, too, that all the neighbours, greedy to enjoy their shame, would be greatly disconcerted every Sunday by the sight of so harmonious a household! He was almost impatient for Sunday to come so that he might observe their expressions!... Moreover, justice would still be done. He took the lamp, and as he raised it, the light fell upon Thérèse’s averted head: “Aren’t you going up yet?” She did not seem to hear him: and he went out, leaving her in darkness. At the bottom of the staircase Aunt Clara sat crouching on the lowest step. As the old woman stared at him, he smiled with an effort, and took her arm to raise her. But she resisted,--like an old dog against the bed of its dying master. Bernard placed the lamp on the paved floor, and shouted in the old woman’s ear that Thérèse was already feeling much better, but that she wanted to be alone for a few minutes before she went to bed. “It is just one of her moods, you know.”