Mademoiselle de Songeon indignantly lifted her eyes heavenwards, while the mistress of La Chênaie, little used to rebuffs, returned to the attack. “I cannot understand your refusal. In our sympathy for your mourning, we only wished to explain ourselves in the most natural way. These ladies, Mademoiselle de Songeon, the Marquise de Lavernay, the Baroness d’Amberlard, shared my opinion. I represent them now--and the Archbishop promised to help us.” She hoped to make a great impression on the poor lady by these aristocratic references. She did not, could not know, to what degree of indifference life had brought Madame Guibert with regard to the people and things of the world. Paule saw how worried her mother was. She immediately took the offensive, in order to finish the interview. “The service at Cognin was announced at Chambéry. All our friends were there. Some came from far away. Some came whom we did not even know and who shared our grief. But I was told, Madame Dulaurens, that your pew was empty, and I could not believe it.” After this attack she added: “If my elder brother, who is the head of the family, thinks other honors are indispensable he will let us know. We will conform to his wishes. My mother and he are the only ones who have anything to say in the matter.” Seeing how useless her insistence was, Madame Dulaurens rose to go. “I regret,” she said, “that there should have been this misunderstanding, which we have not been able to smooth over. I did not expect this welcome. But I see that your daughter has entire influence over you.” “We are in complete agreement,” said the old woman, getting up with difficulty in her turn. She approved of her daughter’s decision, but she wished that the same things might have been said a little less imperiously. She was afraid that the visitors at Le Maupas were offended and she was unhappy about it. A slight color flushed her pale cheeks. As she was going to the door with Mademoiselle de Songeon and Madame Dulaurens, her color did not escape the eye of the latter. Madame Dulaurens was looking far revenge; she thought she had found it and with a cruel irony she uttered these words: “Good-bye, Madame Guibert. How well you are looking! It is wonderful! We are surprised and happy to see it.” Tears mounted to Madame Guibert’s eyes. She was still too sensitive to injustice. Aged, bent, broken down, she would have wrung pity from anyone but a baffled woman of the world. Gently she murmured, while the blood left her cheeks: “May God preserve my health! My task is not finished.” She was thinking of Paule, whose uncertain fate caused her anxiety and attached her still to life. Instinctively she turned round to look at her. But the drawing-room door was shut. She felt compelled to conduct the ladies to their carriage. They got in and asked for Madame de Marthenay, who had stayed behind. “I will tell her,” said Madame Guibert, climbing the stairs with difficulty.