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Updated: June 14, 2025
Of Marien she thought: "He sits there as if he had been put 'en penitence'." No doubt he could not endure scenes, and the one he had just passed through must have given him the downcast look which Jacqueline noticed with contempt. What she did not know was that his depression had more than one cause.
This phrase was amusing when it proceeded from her lips. What! "struggle for life" with those little delicate, soft, childlike hands? How absurd! She laughed at the idea now, and all those who heard her laughed with her; Marien laughed more than any one.
But she knew he had called her "Clotilde," that he had even dared to say "thou" to her in private these were things she knew of her own knowledge. Her pulse beat quicker as she thought of them; her head burned. In that studio, where she had passed so many happy hours, had Marien and her stepmother ever met as lovers? Her stepmother and Marien! She could not understand what it meant.
But do you think that Jacqueline will keep the secret till the picture is done?" "You don't know little girls; they are all too glad to have something of which they can make a mystery." "When would you like us to begin?" Marien had by this time said to himself that for him to hold out longer might seem strange to M. de Nailles.
We have taken the station!" They arrived at the hotel. The lobby was thronged with people. A chocolate salesman from Switzerland was orating: "They have erected a guillotine in Marien Platz. They are shooting down and beheading everybody who wears a white collar." The hotel proprietor quieted the crowd. "Nonsense!" he cried. "Ridiculous nonsense! We are safe.
A fortnight after this, Madame de Nailles, having come back to Paris, from some watering-place, was telling Marien that Jacqueline had started for Bellagio with Mr. and Miss Sparks, the latter having taken a notion that she wanted that kind of chaperon who is called a companion in England and America. "But they are of the same age," said Marien. "That is just what Miss Sparks wants.
"Come! now, on the contrary you are tightening your lips," said Marien, continuing to play with her as a cat plays with a mouse provided there ever was a cat who, while playing with its mouse, had no intention of crunching it. "You are not merry, you are sad. That is not at all becoming to you." "Why do you attribute to me your own thoughts?
So she continued to sit there, doing what she had been told to do without any qualms of conscience. When Marien had shown Jacqueline all his drawings he asked her: "Are you satisfied?" But Jacqueline's hand was already on the portiere which separated the little room from Marien's bedchamber. "Oh! I beg pardon," she exclaimed, pausing on the threshold.
No one could have been more watchful to appear ignorant of everything which, if once brought to light, would have led to difficulties; for instance, she feigned not to know that her stepdaughter was in possession of a secret which, if the world knew, would forever make them strangers to each other; nor would she seem aware that Hubert Marien, weary to death of the tie that bound him to her, was restrained from breaking it only by a scruple of honor.
She seemed to see before her her dead father he looked like Fred, and now, as before, Marien had his part in the tragedy. Could he not have prevented the duel? Could he not have done something to prevent Fred from exposing himself? The wound might be no worse than it was said to be in the newspaper but then a second meeting was to take place. No! it should not, she would stop it at any price!
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