On
seeing this woman, Pascal was overcome with rage and indignation,
and felt a wild desire to annihilate her. He knew that she was
only a vile slanderer, but she might meet other beings as vile as
herself who would be only too glad to believe her falsehoods. And
to think that he was powerless to punish her! He now realized the
suffering his mother had spoken of--the most atrocious suffering
which the lover can endure--powerlessness to protect the object of
his affections, when she is assailed. Engrossed in these gloomy
thoughts, Pascal preserved a sullen silence during the repast. He
ate because his mother filled his plate; but if he had been
questioned, he could scarcely have told what he was eating. And
yet, the modest dinner was excellent. Madame Vantrasson was
really a good cook, and in this first effort in her new situation
she had surpassed herself. Her vanity as a cordon-bleu was piqued
because she did not receive the compliments she expected, and
which she felt she deserved. Four or five times she asked
impatiently, "Isn't that good?" and as the only reply was a
scarcely enthusiastic "Very good," she vowed she would never again
waste so much care and talent upon such unappreciative people.
Madame Ferailleur was as silent as her son, and seemed equally
anxious to finish with the repast. She evidently wanted to get
rid of Madame Vantrasson, and in fact as soon as the simple
dessert had been placed on the table, she turned to her, and said:
"You may go home now.
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