“Reflect well on it first, for the situation which you are about to accept will have much bitterness in it; but we have only a choice of evils.”

At the close of this conversation, and eight days after their arrival in the country, Madame de Tecle wrote M. de Camors a letter, which she read to her daughter, who approved it.

“I understood you to say, that you would restore to your wife her liberty if she wished to resume it.  She neither wishes, nor could she accept it.  Her first duty is to the child which will bear your name.  It does not depend on her to keep this name stainless.  She prays you, then, to reserve for her a place in your house.  You need not fear any trouble or any reproach from her.  She and I know how to suffer in silence.  Nevertheless, I supplicate you to be true to her—­to spare her.  Will you leave her yet a few days in peace, then recall, or come for her?”

This letter touched M. de Camors deeply.  Impassive as he was, it can easily be imagined that after the departure of his wife he had not enjoyed perfect ease of mind.  Uncertainty is the worst of all evils, because everything may be apprehended.  Deprived entirely of all news for eight days, there was no possible catastrophe he did not fancy floating over his head.  He had the haughty courage to conceal from Madame de Campvallon the event that had occurred in his house, and to leave her undisturbed while he himself was sleepless for many nights.  It was by such efforts of energy and of indomitable pride that this strange man preserved within his own consciousness a proud self-esteem.  The letter of Madame de Tecle came to him like a deliverance.  He sent the following brief reply: 

“I accept your decision with gratitude and respect.  The resolution of your daughter is generous.  I have yet enough of generosity left myself to comprehend this.  I am forever, whether you wish it or not, her friend and yours.

“Camors.”

A week later, having taken the precaution of announcing his intention, he arrived one evening at Madame de Tecle’s.

His young wife kept her chamber.  They had taken care to have no witnesses, but their meeting was less painful and less embarrassing than they apprehended.

Madame de Tecle and her daughter found in his courteous reply a gleam of nobleness which inspired them with a shadow of confidence.  Above all, they were proud, and more averse to noisy scenes than women usually are.  They received him coldly, then, but calmly.  On his part, he displayed toward them in his looks and language a subdued seriousness and sadness, which did not lack either dignity or grace.

The conversation having dwelt for some time on the health of the Countess, turned on current news, on local incidents, and took, little by little, an easy and ordinary tone.  M. de Camors, under the pretext of slight fatigue, retired as he had entered—­saluting both the ladies, but without attempting to take their hands.  Thus was inaugurated, between Madame de Camors and her husband, the new, singular relation which should hereafter be the only tie in their common life.