He was informed first at the Council and then at the Chamber, that Granet would not introduce his question until the next day.  Vaudrey had the desired time to prepare himself.  In the Budget Committee, where he met Granet, the minister of to-morrow asked him an inopportune question concerning the expenses of the administration.  Vaudrey was angered and felt inclined to treat it as a personal question.  It now only remained for his adversaries to begin to suspect him!  To appear so was even now too much.  Sulpice took Granet up promptly, the latter assured him that “his colleague and friend, the President of the Council,” had entirely misconstrued the meaning of his words.

“Well and good!” said Vaudrey.

He was not sorry that the interpellation was not to take place at once.  Before to-morrow, he would have placed his batteries.  And then he would think of quieting Adrienne, of regaining her, perhaps.  On returning to the ministry, he caused some inquiries to be made as to whether Madame were not sick.  Madame had gone out.  She had gone out as if she were making a pilgrimage to a cemetery, to the apartment in Rue de la Chaussee-d’Antin, whereon might have been written:  Here lies.  It was like the tomb of her happiness.

She would not see Sulpice again.  In the evening, however, she consented to speak to him.

Her poor, gentle face was extremely pale, and as if distorted by some violent pain.

“You will find some excuse,” she said, “for announcing that I am ill.  I am leaving for Grenoble.  I have written to my uncle, the Doctor expects me, and all that now remains to me is a place in his house.”

“Adrienne!” murmured Sulpice.

She closed her eyes, for this suppliant voice doubtless caused her a new grief, but neither gesture nor word escaped her.  She was like a walking automaton.  Even her eyes expressed neither reproach nor anger, they seemed dim.

There was something of death in her aspect.

After a few moments, she said:  “I hope that my resolve will not work any prejudice to your political position.  In that direction I will still do my duty to the full extent of my strength.  But people will not trouble themselves to inquire whether I am at Grenoble or Paris.  They trouble themselves very little about me.”

By a gesture, he sought to retain her.  She had already entered her room, and Vaudrey felt that between this woman and him there stood something like a wall.  He had now only to love Marianne.

To love Marianne, ah! yes, the unhappy man, he still loved her.  When he thought of Marianne, it was more in wrath, when he thought of Adrienne, it was more in pity; but, certainly, his wife’s determination to leave Paris caused him less emotion than the thought that his mistress was to wed Rosas.

That very evening he went to Marianne’s.

They told him that Madame was at the theatre.  Where?  With whom?  Neither
Jean nor Justine knew.