gun a new life, her real life. She began consulting time-tables, fitting in her connections. Then she tossed the booklet aside, saying:
"Bah! It would be much simpler to get divorced."
"Your husband's virtue stands in the way, my dear."
She did not insist. Nevertheless, at this moment, she would have abandoned everything—family, children, house, fortune, honour—to follow Leonor and become the wife of a little architect with a still uncertain future. And then she would be the niece of Lanfranc, whose mother used to sell cakes to the children in the Place Notre—Dame at Saint-Lô! She had bought them from her when she was ten. Her aristocratic instinct revolted, but she looked at Leonor and reflected that the demigods were born of the peasant girls of Attica. She pursued her idea.
"Your mother must have been very beautiful."
"Who told you so? It's quite true."
She wished to go to the station alone, refused to be seen off.
