"Does he drink? Come 'Thénaïse, think well over it. Does he ever get drunk?"
"Drunk! Oh, mercy, no,—Cazeau never gets drunk."
"I see; it's jus' simply you feel like me; you hate him."
"No, I don't hate him," she returned reflectively; adding with a sudden impulse, "It's jus' being married that I detes' an' despise. I hate being Mrs. Cazeau, an' would want to be Athénaïse Miché again. I can't stan' to live with a man; to have him always there; his coats an' pantaloons hanging in my room; his ugly bare feet—washing them in my tub, befo' my very eyes, ugh!" She shuddered with recollections, and resumed, with a sigh that was almost a sob: "Mon Dieu, mon Dieu! Sister Marie Angélique knew w'at she was saying; she knew me better than myse'f w'en she said God had sent me a vocation an' I was turning deaf ears. W'en I think of a blessed life in the convent, at peace! Oh, w'at was I dreaming of!" and then the tears came.
Montéclin felt disconcerted and greatly disappointed at having obtained evidence that would carry no weight with a court of justice.
