'Long ago he pretended to have love for her, just for the pleasure of it, when he had not--that is worse than pretending to have money! And in any case, it is a _wicked_ law, monsieur, that would grant a divorce when they are married, and--look now--left to himself he will forgive her, but he is catching at what you say.

You have come here to tempt him! You dare not go on, monsieur!' 'Dare not, mademoiselle ?' said the notary, with a superior air.
'No, monsieur.

Think of what the good God and the holy saints would say! This poor girl has brought much punishment on herself, but--ah, monsieur, think of the verdict of Heaven!' 'Mademoiselle,' said the notary haughtily, 'I was proposing nothing but justice; but it is no affair of mine.' And with that he went out brusquely--very brusquely for a gentleman of such polite manners.
'I am astonished at you, Marie,' said Madame Verine.

This was true, but it was meant as a reproach.
'She is beside herself with compassion,' said the Russian lady; 'but that is just what men of the world despise most.' Then Marie went to her room weeping, and the two ladies talked to Celeste till her soft face had hard lines about the mouth and her eyes were defiant.

Young Fernand slipped out and went again to the market-place.
'I come to ask your aid, monsieur the notary.' 'I do not advise you.' 'But, monsieur, to whom else can I apply ?' 'I am too busy,' said the notary.
Fernand and Celeste walked back to their village, hand in hand, both downcast, both peevish, but still together.
Now the notary was not what might be called a bad man himself, but he believed that the world was very bad.