"Thrust my head into the lion's mouth?"
"Whatever--whatever happens, it will not be so terrible for you there as
here--at Poissy. Telegraph to Monsieur Rodoin, and he will let them
know that you are coming up by the morning express--if you are strong
enough to travel."
"Yes, yes!" he cried, with sudden energy, "you are right. Then my
mother--Poissy--will be spared something of humiliation. Send off a
messenger at once with the telegram, and order the carriage in an hour.
And--and, Nathalie, let them know, keep them away; I cannot bear my
mother's reproaches."
They fell on her; Claire's with stinging sharpness, but the conflict in
her own heart had this effect that words did not succeed in wounding.
Mme. de Beaudrillart was more passive; it struck Nathalie that the blow
had stunned her, and that physically her stately height had shrunk. She
kept in her own room, sending only a message to her son that she could
not wish him good-bye. Felicie wandered miserably about, suggesting
impossible plans, though unable to realise that anything so terrible as
Claire suggested could fall on Poissy. "If only Monsieur Georges were
here, I am sure he would think of something, or if only I might go and
ask the abbe! If Nathalie had attended more to his advice, and less to
those dreadful books of hers, this would never have been permitted to
come upon us. There they are in her room still, in spite of all that
monseigneur said."