Elizabeth looked at her mother as if to beg for her advice. Her smooth forehead was lined with a little vertical wrinkle between the eyebrows. Her entire face, her body, was tense with an effort of abnormal will, entirely out of keeping with the pretty childishness of the face and the accustomed carelessness of her movements. She did not wait for Mme. Molay-Norrois to give her advice. "It is quite decided," she said. "I refuse. I will not lie. I will tell the whole truth: so much the worse for those whom it strikes." "Quite right!" agreed her mother, not without secret remorse, for she paid no heed to the remonstrances of M. Molay-Norrois, who, since his daughter's return, had tried to dissuade the two women from any public scandal. But she was one of those good, loving honorable women, who are controlled by the ardor of their feelings. Philippe Lagier expected this reply. The turn of decision and frankness in the young woman did not displease him, but on the contrary, seemed to be a change worthy of attention. She rejected all compromise, not because of revenge and hatred, but because she judged the results of the separation to be less important than the separation itself. There is no safer code of morals than the truth; but how difficult to follow, and--still more--to accept! Being neither complex nor meditative, Elizabeth judged it simpler to abide by it: at least she chose it of her own accord, without submitting to any outside influence. "Besides," added Mme. Molay-Norrois, "M. Salvage has promised us that the separation will be granted very quickly without investigation." "That will depend," objected the lawyer, "upon the document in your hands of which I know nothing." "The document?" "Yes, the letter to which allusion is made." Elizabeth blushed as if she had been discovered, and felt obliged to give an explanation: "It is a telegraphed letter. During Albert's absence, at his request, I opened all telegrams to inform him of their contents, but never letters. He had asked me to do this for him ever since we were first married. It is true that for a time I had not done so. That day he was impatiently waiting for some proofs which did not come. He had gone out. I was to telephone to him if they came. I thought that the telegram referred to them--it was chance. That was how I came to know--" She wished to convey the impression that she did not watch over her husband's correspondence and that all spying would have been unworthy of her. By the expression of her face, even more than by her words, one would know that she was incapable of such a rôle. As a result of this attitude of loyalty, her youth assumed a more direct charm. "Will you show me that letter?" asked Philippe, who, prompted by curiosity or sympathy, was going somewhat beyond his mission. "But ... why?"