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158 THE CONFESSION OF A FOOL
mother, glad to thrust the poisoned dagger into the heart
of the daughter-in-law whom she hated because she had
brought dishonour on her name.
Marie was broken-hearted, and spent day and night at
the bedside of the dying child, under the roof of her
former husband, chaperoned by her late mother-in-law.
The father was overcome with grief at the death of his
only child, and, bowed down with sorrow, he longed to
ineet again the friend of former days, the witness of the
past. One evening, a few days after the little girl’s
funeral, my landlady informed me that the Baron had
called and had left a message to the effect that he hoped
to see me at his house.
Considering the unusual circumstances Avhich had led
up to the breach, I wanted anything but a reconciliation.
I sent him a polite refusal.
A quarter of an hour had hardly elapsed Avhen Marie
herself appeared, dressed in deep mourning, her eyes full
of tears, and begged me to comply with the request of the
inconsolable Baron.
I found this mission in abominable taste. I rated her
soundly, and pointed out to her how ambiguous and
unjustifiable in the eyes of the world such a situation
would be. She upbraided me with my prejudices, im-
plored me, appealed to my generous disposition, and
ended by overruling all my objections ; I agreed to the
indelicate proposal.
I had sworn never again to enter the house in which the
drama had been enacted. But the widower had removed.
He had taken rooms not far from us ; I was glad to be
spared a renewed visit to the old place, and accompanied
the divorced wife on her visit to her late husband.
The mourning, the evident grief, the grave and gloomy
appearance of the house all combined to rob our meeting
of any trace of strangeness or embarrassment.
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