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Updated: May 4, 2025
Le Breton, she said, coming over towards the table where Ernest had just laid out his blotting-book and writing-paper: 'I couldn't prevent myself from coming up to tell you how much I admire your conduct in standing up so against papa for what you thought was right and proper. I can't say how greatly I admire it. I'm so glad you did as you did do.
There was something, too, which she had casually said a day or two ago that she wanted, what was it? Ah, yes, a new blotting-book for her writing-table in the drawing-room. The shop she habitually dealt at for such things, a branch of Asprey's, was only a few yards farther on, and he turned in to make inquiries as to whether she had ordered it.
'She is more after the pattern of the little things on little wings, in your blotting-book, said Charles; 'certain lines in the predicament of the cherubs of painters heads "et proeterea nihil". 'O Guy, do you write verses? cried Charlotte. 'Some nonsense, muttered Guy, out of countenance; 'I thought I had made away with that rubbish; where is it?
Turning the leaf of a blotting-book that was by Marnham's elbow, I came upon a sheet of paper on which were written these words in his hand, "Greater love hath no man than this " that was all. Either he had forgotten the end of the quotation or changed his mind, or was unable through weakness to finish the sentence. This paper also I put in my pocket.
He turned his eyes from the smile of the portrait, entered his own room, and, seating himself by the writing-table, drew blotting-book and note-paper towards him, took up the pen, and instead of writing fell into deep revery. There was a slight frown on his brow, on which frowns were rare. He was very angry with himself.
Near her was a table on which were a shaded lamp, some books, a blotting-book, a teapot, and a cup; on the white quilt rested an unusually long bellrope, so that she might pull it without moving. The fire in the chimney was out, but the movable stove sent out a heat that denoted it was arranged for the night. Saniel felt the heat, and mechanically unbuttoned his overcoat.
She would at least go out and see. "I'll leave a farewell letter," she said, "in case I never come back." She found her little blotting-book envelopes, but no paper. Of course! One can't with dignity write cutting farewells on envelopes. She tore a page from her diary. "You have driven me to this," she wrote.
I think if you can bring me a pen and paper I may be able to do it now. I could rest better if it were done. Poor thing! how I tire her with running up and down!" She fetched writing materials, and held up the blotting-book as a support to his hand, while he penned a brief note to his nominal wife.
He turned his eyes from the smile of the portrait, entered his own room, and, seating himself by the writing-table, drew blotting-book and note-paper towards him, took up the pen, and instead of writing fell into deep revery. There was a slight frown on his brow, on which frowns were rare. He was very angry with himself.
"I, too, will make you a confession: that letter to Monsieur de Sallenauve, giving him his dismissal, I have written it; you will find it in my blotting-book. If you think it will do, send it." Quite beside himself with delight at finding his proposed successor so readily sacrificed, Monsieur de l'Estorade did not control his joy; taking his wife in his arms, he kissed her effusively.
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