ed aware of the full extent of their misfortune.

MME. CATHERINE. Well, children, I don't know in what kind of shape
you keep your consciences. But how a decent fellow, a careful and
considerate man like Monsieur Maurice, can all of a sudden desert
a woman and her child, that is something I cannot explain.

ADOLPHE. Nor can I explain it, and he doesn't seem to understand
it himself. I met them this morning, and everything appeared quite
natural to them, quite proper, as if they couldn't imagine
anything else. It was as if they had been enjoying the satisfaction
of a good deed or the fulfilment of a sacred duty. There are things,
Madame Catherine, that we cannot explain, and for this reason it
is not for us to judge. And besides, you saw how it happened.
Maurice felt the danger in the air. I foresaw it and tried to
prevent their meeting. Maurice wanted to run away from it, but
nothing helped. Why, it was as if a plot had been laid by some
invisible power, and as if they had been driven by guile into
each other's arms. Of course, I am disqualified in this case, but
I wouldn't hesitate to pronounce a verdict of "not guilty."

MME. CATHERINE. Well, now, to be able to forgive as you do, that's
what I call religion.

ADOLPHE. Heavens, could it be that I am religious without knowing
it.

MME. CATHERINE. But then, to _let_ oneself be driven or tempted
into evil, as Monsieur Maurice has done, means weakness or bad
character. And if you feel your strength failing you, then you ask
for help, and then you get it. But he was too conceited to do
that--Who is this coming? The Abbe, I think.

ADOLPHE. What does he want here?

ABBE. [Enters] Good evening, madame. Good evening, Monsieur.

MME. CATHERINE. Can I be of any service?

ABBE. Has Monsieur Maurice, the author, been here to-day?

MME. CATHERINE. Not to-day. His play has just been put on, and
that is probably keeping him busy.

ABBE. I have--sad news to bring him. Sad in several respects.

MME. CATHERINE. May I ask of what kind?

ABBE. Yes, it's no secret. The daughter he had with that girl,
Jeanne, is dead.

MME. CATHERINE. Dead!

ADOLPHE. Marion dead!

ABBE. Yes, she died suddenly this morning without any previous
illness.

MME. CATHERINE. O Lord, who can tell Thy ways!

ABBE. The mother's grief makes it necessary that Monsieur Maurice
look after her, so we must try to find him. But first a question
in confidence: do you know whether Monsieur Maurice was