Jacques sat down opposite to her, their knees touching.  He took her hands: 

“My dear love, you are going to commit a gross, an irreparable folly.  If you want to leave your husband, put him in the wrong, so that your position as a woman of the world may be saved.”

She asked, as she looked at him uneasily: 

“Then, what do you advise me?”

“To go back home and to put up with your life there till the day when you can obtain either a separation or a divorce, with the honors of war.”

“Is not this thing which you advise me to do a little cowardly?”

“No; it is wise and sensible.  You have a high position, a reputation to protect, friends to preserve and relations to deal with.  You must not lose all these through a mere caprice.”

She rose up, and said with violence: 

“Well, no!  I cannot stand it any longer!  It is at an end! it is at an end!”

Then, placing her two hands on her lover’s shoulders, and looking him straight in the face, she asked: 

“Do you love me?”

“Yes.”

“Really and truly?”

“Yes.”

“Then take care of me.”

He exclaimed: 

“Take care of you?  In my own house?  Here?  Why, you are mad.  It would mean losing you forever; losing you beyond hope of recall!  You are mad!”

She replied, slowly and seriously, like a woman who feels the weight of her words: 

“Listen, Jacques.  He has forbidden me to see you again, and I will not play this comedy of coming secretly to your house.  You must either lose me or take me.”

“My dear Irene, in that case, obtain your divorce, and I will marry you.”

“Yes, you will marry me in—­two years at the soonest.  Yours is a patient love.”

“Look here!  Reflect!  If you remain here he’ll come to-morrow to take you away, seeing that he is your husband, seeing that he has right and law on his side.”

“I did not ask you to keep me in your own house, Jacques, but to take me anywhere you like.  I thought you loved me enough to do that.  I have made a mistake.  Good-by!”

She turned round and went toward the door so quickly that he was only able to catch hold of her when she was outside the room: 

“Listen, Irene.”

She struggled, and would not listen to him.  Her eyes were full of tears, and she stammered: 

“Let me alone! let me alone! let me alone!”

He made her sit down by force, and once more falling on his knees at her feet, he now brought forward a number of arguments and counsels to make her understand the folly and terrible risk of her project.  He omitted nothing which he deemed necessary to convince her, finding even in his very affection for her incentives to persuasion.

As she remained silent and cold as ice, he begged of her, implored of her to listen to him, to trust him, to follow his advice.