She spoke with a certain embarrassment: and this made Gilberte feel awkward. However, she said:
"I can't write. Guillaume alone can solve the question that lies between him and his conscience."
Mme. de la Vaudraye gave an impatient gesture and cried:
"You can't write! What a ridiculous scruple! Is it any worse to write to a young man than to go walking about the country with him, as I hear you did yesterday? What! My son fights a duel because of you, he leaves me because of you; and, when I, his mother, ask you ...! Well, what's the matter? What are you looking at me like that for?"
A chair suddenly pushed aside, an overturned flower-vase bore evidence to Mme. de la Vaudraye's burst of irritation. She flew out again:
"Oh, yes, it's all very well, but one can't stand that eternal gentleness of yours!
