It was the first allusion, on his part, to other days. A little earlier in the interview it would have touched her more. Now it gave her something of the old sense of compassion for his weakness; but that was not the feeling that could bring her back. Her heart had always revolted against injustice; it revolted now doubly, trebly. She was frightened at herself; frightened at the way in which the love she had been clinging to all this time was melting away. In the midst of her pain and indignation and pity, it gave her a strange unreal feeling. There is often a strange medley in our hearts on those days which we call crises in our lives. The lesser things subside, and we forget all but the most prominent; but at the time the oddest emotions hustle one another. Therese was puzzled at herself; at the change that seemed to have come over her since that morning. And then she found herself curiously watching the little procession that went down the stairs,--the cure in his flowing black cassock and his wide beaver hat; M. Deshoulieres and Fabien, so unlike each other; Nannon, with her broad shoulders and her heavily plaited green gown--it seemed as if all the characters in her little drama were trooping down together. Monsieur Deshoulieres was the victor, who was going away in triumph, but there was not much triumph in his heart just then. At the door they separated. "Adieu, Therese," said Fabien, with his hand on the door of the _salle-a-manger_. "Adieu, Fabien." "If you come to Paris at any time let me know. Do not allow the provinces to engross you altogether. Or if you have need of any thing--" "I have need of nothing." "In that case, _au revoir_." He wanted to punish her. His nature was too small to bear the humiliation of allowing himself to be in the wrong. He was in a rage with them all, and he wanted to punish her. He only stung her. And the others had passed out, so that they heard nothing. CHAPTER NINETEEN. "And thou, as one that once declined, When he was little more than boy, On some unworthy heart with joy, But lives to wed an equal mind." _In Memoriam_. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Monsieur le Cure had his own little mortifications to endure before he got back to his study in the presbytere at Ardron. On his way to the Eveche he encountered the Prefet, who loved a little gossip, and stopped him at once. "Is it true? Has Monsieur Moreau's heir actually arrived?" "Yes, Monsieur le Prefet," said the cure, grimly. "I came to Charville with him for the purpose of ascertaining the meaning of certain suspicious circumstances connected with the will and the trusteeship." "What, those ridiculous reports about M. Deshoulieres?" "Ridiculous! I have your own letter confirming them."