"I,édé at all events, had no child; and I thanked God for it at that moment. Recovering my strength of will and my courage, I said to myself that in all probability many wives had passed through such ordeals as mine. Ah! if we knew all the family secrets of our friends! This is not romancing, my friend; I invent nothing; it is history.
"I was conscious of a thrill of joy at the thought that I was free; that Monsieur Dauberny had released me from all the oaths that bound me to him. For I did not feel disposed, for my part, to imitate Madame Faisandé, who, although she was aware of her husband's conduct, hardly dared to say a word of reproach, and remained faithful to her vows. That is very fine, but I am not so self-sacrificing! and, frankly, I have never understood that precept of the Gospel about returning good for evil. No, no! let us not forgive an insult, let us not kiss the hand that strikes us; for then the insult and the blow will be repeated. The _lex talionis_! that is the natural law, and it is my idea of justice!
"Three days passed before I saw my husband; he probably passed them in that den where his friend Faisandé sometimes passed a week. At last, Monsieur Dauberny came to my room one morning and approached me as if to kiss me. I felt as if I were about to come in contact with a toad. I rose hastily, and I doubt not that my face expressed what was passing through my mind, for Monsieur Dauberny stopped in utter amazement.
"'Monsieur,' I said to him, pointing to the door, 'you will never cross that threshold again! More than that, you will never seek to see me or to speak to me. Henceforth we are utter strangers to each other. I will never go out with you; when I dine at home, it will not be at your table; we will have our meals separately. Absolute liberty, monsieur! I shall do whatever I please--absolutely! do you understand, monsieur? And you will not venture to find fault with any act of mine.'
"Monsieur Dauberny, bewildered at first by what I said, tried to demand an explanation. I closed his mouth with these words:
"'I know all about La Courtille, Mariotte, the vile hole on Rue Saint-Éloy, and the four _siroteuses_!'
"He turned deathly pale and trembled like a leaf; he stammered some words which I could not understand, then bowed, and rushed from the room. Since that day--and that was years ago!--I have not exchanged a word with my husband. We live as I had resolved. Sometimes I don't see him for three weeks; and if we chance to meet, we bow, and that is all. The world has become accustomed to seeing me go about without my husband. What the world thinks about it matters little to me! It is so often mistaken in its judgments that we are fools to worry about it. I have always thought that our own esteem was worth more than the consideration which is often most freely bestowed on people who hardly deserve it."