e misfortunes
that have embittered my life and troubled my peace of mind. It is a
matter of perfect indifference to me if he lives or dies. Now you know
my feelings with regard to him. Public opinion may blame me, but I
care nothing for public opinion. Just now I have other and much
more important matters to think about than the things that fools and
chatterers may say about me. As for Mme. de Restaud, she cannot leave
the house; she is in no condition to do so. And, besides, I shall not
allow her to leave it. Tell her father that as soon as she has done her
duty by her husband and child she shall go to see him. If she has any
love for her father, she can be free to go to him, if she chooses, in a
few seconds; it lies entirely with her----"

"Monsieur le Comte, it is no business of mine to criticise your conduct;
you can do as you please with your wife, but may I count upon your
keeping your word with me? Well, then, promise me to tell her that her
father has not twenty-four hours to live; that he looks in vain for her,
and has cursed her already as he lies on his deathbed,--that is all I
ask."

"You can tell her yourself," the Count answered, impressed by the thrill
of indignation in Eugene's voice.

The Count led the way to the room where his wife usually sat. She was
drowned in tears, and lay crouching in the depths of an armchair, as
if she were tired of life and longed to die. It was piteous to see her.
Before venturing to look at Rastignac, she glanced at her husband in
evident and abject terror that spoke of complete prostration of body
and mind; she seemed crushed by a tyranny both mental and physical. The
Count jerked his head towards her; she construed this as a permission to
speak.

"I heard all that you said, monsieur. Tell my father that if he knew all
he would forgive me.... I did not think there was such torture in the
world as this; it is more than I can endure, monsieur!--But I will not
give way as long as I live," she said, turning to her husband. "I am a
mother.--Tell my father that I have never sinned against him in spite of
appearances!" she cried aloud in her despair.

Eugene bowed to the husband and wife; he guessed the meaning of the
scene, and that this was a terrible crisis in the Countess' life. M. de
Restaud's manner had told him that his errand was a fruitless one; he
saw that Anastasie had no longer any liberty of action. He came away
mazed and bewildered, and hurried to Mme. de Nucin