She replied in a tone of indifference: "Precisely so; then it is not
worth while waiting till Saturday, we can let Maitre Lamaneur know at
once."
He stopped short in front of her, and they again stood for some moments
with their eyes riveted on one another, striving to fathom the
impenetrable secret of their hearts, to cut down to the quick of their
thoughts. They tried to see one another's conscience unveiled in an
ardent and mute interrogation; the struggle of two beings who, living
side by side, were always ignorant of one another, suspecting, sniffing
round, watching, but never understanding one another to the muddy
depths of their souls. And suddenly he murmured to her face, in a low
voice: "Come, admit that you were De Vaudrec's mistress."
She shrugged her shoulders, saying: "You are ridiculous. Vaudrec was
very fond of me, very--but there was nothing more--never."