If you refuse, I shall
urge my claims, and ruin you. The scandal won't be of much use to
me, it's true, but at least I shall no longer be obliged to endure
the torture of knowing that you are surrounded by every luxury
while I am dying of starvation."
Yes, she had evidently written that. It might not be the precise
text; but no doubt it was the purport of her letter. On receiving
it, Coralth had become alarmed. He knew only too well that if his
wife made herself known and revealed his past, it would be all
over with him. But he had no money. Charming young men like the
Viscount de Coralth never have any money on hand. So, in this
emergency, the dashing young fellow had written to his wife
imploring her to have patience, and to the baroness, entreating,
or rather commanding her to advance him a certain sum at once.
This was no doubt the case, and yet there was one circumstance
which puzzled Chupin exceedingly. In former years, he had heard
it asserted that Mademoiselle Flavie was the very personification
of pride, and that she adored her husband even to madness. Had
this great love vanished? Had poverty and sorrow broken her spirit
to such a degree that she was willing to stoop to such shameful
concessions! If she were acquainted with her husband's present
life, how did it happen that she did not prefer starvation, or the
alms-house and a pauper's grave to his assistance? Chupin could
understand how, in a moment of passion, she might be driven to
denounce her husband in the presence of his fashionable
acquaintances, how she might be impelled to ruin him so as to
avenge herself; but he could not possibly understand how she could
consent to profit by the ignominy of the man she loved.
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