ied up, Carmen came to
know.

Carmen had not seen her husband that morning until now. She had waked
late, and when she was dressed and went into the dining-room to look for
him, with an apprehension which was the reflection of the bad dreams of
the night, she found that he had had his breakfast earlier than usual
and had gone to the mill. She also learned that he had eaten very
little, and that he had sent a man into Vilray for something or other.
Try as she would to stifle her anxiety, it obtruded itself, and she
could eat no breakfast. She kept her eyes on the door and the window,
watching for Jean Jacques.

Yet she reproved herself for her stupid concern, for Jean Jacques would
have spoken last night, if he had discovered anything. He was not the
man to hold his tongue when he had a chance of talking. He would be sure
to make the most of any opportunity for display of intellectual emotion,
and he would have burst his buttons if he had known. That was the way
she put it in a vernacular which was not Andalusian. Such men love a
grievance, because it gives them an opportunity to talk--with a good
case and to some point, not into the air at imaginary things, as she had
so often seen Jean Jacques do. She knew her Jean Jacques. That is,
she thought she knew her Jean Jacques after living with him for over
thirteen years; but hers was a very common mistake. It is not time which
gives revelation, or which turns a character inside out, and exposes a
new and amazing, maybe revolting side to it. She had never really seen
Jean Jacques, and he had never really seen himself, as he was, but only
as circumstances made him seem to be. What he had showed of his nature
all these forty odd years was only the ferment of a more or less shallow
life, in spite of its many interests: but here now at last was life,
with the crust broken over a deep well of experience and tragedy.
She knew as little what he would do in such a case as he himself knew
beforehand. As the incident of the flume just now showed, he knew little
indeed, for he had done exactly the opposite of what he meant to do. It
was possible that Carmen would also do exactly the opposite of what she
meant to do in her own crisis.

Her test was to come. Would she, after all, go off with the
master-carpenter, leaving behind her the pretty, clever, volatile Zoe
... Zoe--ah, where was Zoe? Carmen became anxious about Zoe, she knew
not why. Was it the revival of the maternal instinct