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It was a decapitated head of the Medusa, a work wherein Leonardo, the sculptor said, had expressed the minute profundity and tragic refinement of his genius. She wished to see it again, regretting that she had not seen it better at first. She extinguished her lamp and went to sleep. She dreamed that she met in a deserted church Robert Le Menil enveloped in furs which she had never seen him wear.
You know my husband is mistaken when he thinks Le Menil pleases me. And then I must go to Paris next week for two or three days." Twenty-four hours after writing her letter, Therese went from Dinard to the little house in the Ternes. She had made the trip with her husband, who wanted to see his electors whom the Socialists were working over.
He said, also, there was nothing so beautiful as the forest in winter. He talked about wolves. That refreshed me." The General, who did not like young men, said he had met Le Menil the day before in the forest, galloping, with vast space between himself and his saddle. He declared that old cavaliers alone retained the traditions of good horsemanship; that people in society now rode like jockeys.
She made a sign to Paul Vence who was near her: "Do you not think Madame Martin is extraordinarily beautiful this year?" In the lobby, full of light and gold, General de La Briche asked Lariviere: "Did you see my nephew?" "Your nephew, Le Menil?" "Yes Robert. He was in the theatre a moment ago." La Briche remained pensive for a moment. Then he said: "He came this summer to Semanville.
She made a sign to Paul Vence who was near her: "Do you not think Madame Martin is extraordinarily beautiful this year?" In the lobby, full of light and gold, General de La Briche asked Lariviere: "Did you see my nephew?" "Your nephew, Le Menil?" "Yes Robert. He was in the theatre a moment ago." La Briche remained pensive for a moment. Then he said: "He came this summer to Semanville.
But in the solitude of the Avenue MacMahon, the shadow which she had seen at the corner of the Rue Galilee came near her with a directness that was unmistakable. She recognized Robert Le Menil, who, having followed her from the quay, was stopping her at the most quiet and secure place. His air, his attitude, expressed the simplicity of motive which had formerly pleased Therese.
"A singular letter," continued Montessuy. "Le Menil will not come to Joinville. He has bought the yacht Rosebud. He is on the Mediterranean, and can not live except on the water. It is a pity. He is the only one who knows how to manage a hunt."
She said: "Without you, I did not know how to see anything. Why did you not come to me before?" He closed her lips with a kiss. Then she said: "Yes, I love you! Yes, I never have loved any one but you!" Le Menil had written: "I leave tomorrow evening at seven o'clock. Meet me at the station." She had gone to meet him.
He persisted in trying to flatter her vanity, unable to realize that her mind was not worldly. She replied, negligently, that it might be a pleasant trip. Then he praised the mountains, the ancient cities, the bazaars, the costumes, the armor. He added: "We shall take some friends with us Princess Seniavine, General Lariviere, perhaps Vence or Le Menil."
She yielded, two years later, to Robert Le Menil, who had desired her ardently, with all the warmth of his youth, with all the simplicity of his mind. She said to herself: "I gave myself to him because he loved me." It was the truth. The truth was, also, that a dumb yet powerful instinct had impelled her, and that she had obeyed the hidden impulse of her being.
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