“You were aware of this—attachment, madame.”
“I feared it,” she replied simply.
“Mother,” cried the boy. “You too! Marthe is as good as she is
beautiful. What can you have against her?”
“I have nothing against Mademoiselle Daubreuil in any way. But I should
prefer you to marry an Englishwoman, or if a Frenchwoman not one who
has a mother of doubtful antecedents!”
Her rancour against the older woman showed plainly in her voice, and I
could well understand that it must have been a bitter blow to her when
her only son showed signs of falling in love with the daughter of her
rival.
Mrs. Renauld continued, addressing the magistrate:
“I ought, perhaps, to have spoken to my husband on the subject, but I
hoped that it was only a boy and girl flirtation which would blow over
all the quicker if no notice was taken of it. I blame myself now for my
silence, but my husband, as I told you, had seemed so anxious and
care-worn, different altogether from his normal self, that I was
chiefly concerned not to give him any additional worry.”