She insisted, she put so much warmth into her voice, she held out her arms, as if to grasp hold of the victory. Fanchette who had come to take away her tray, stood at the threshold, not knowing whether to enter the room or to go back, and she waited in suspense at these effusions. He knew very well that any argument was quite useless, and he had but timidly to express one short sentence, in order to indicate his mother's failure: "You do not know _her_. I love her." Her name had not yet been mentioned. No doubt she would never be discussed, for the mere reminder of her existence separated them. Mme. Derize said no more: what could she answer? In naming the children she had hoped to overcome every obstacle, and the unknown obstacle persisted with all its force. "Your luggage?" she asked a little later, to break the awkward silence which was oppressing them. Material details often serve to adjust a situation. She explained: "Your room is there. You are to have mine." "I am leaving immediately." "So soon?" But this protest did not express the joy she had felt in the mere prospect of keeping him, in little by little finding him changed. It was an unselfish complaint, which was based on concern for him: "You will tire yourself." Fanchette, who had finished clearing away the table and brushing off the crumbs, seconded this reflection like a distressing echo. Albert did not stir. He discontentedly withdrew into himself. "When will you come back?" continued his mother, ready to content herself with the shortest space of time. "This summer?" "It will be impossible." Was he then planning to leave everyone, his wife, his children, his mother, his country? She was tempted to murmur, "Why did you come at all?" His visit became more menacing than his absence. At that moment someone rang the door bell. It was unusual, at that hour. "Shall I open the door?" asked the old servant. "It is Philippe Lagier," said Albert. "I asked him to come here this evening. I am leaving on the ten-forty express." Mme. Derize preceded her son into her drawing-room, to receive the lawyer. Philippe, who had the greatest respect for her, bowed and kissed her hand, which always surprised the poor woman. She understood that Albert had made the journey to Grenoble for this interview and that he would go away without seeing his children. The game was certainly lost, and since her presence was futile, she left the two men alone. The lawyer was sorry for her and retained her for a second with these words of regret: "I tried to reconcile them, Madame. I assure you." The despair which he understood, and the confidence of his friend dispelled the unhappiness, which old memories and Elizabeth's beauty had recalled to his mind. "Well?" asked Albert impatiently, as soon as they were alone. "Well, she refuses."