of
that high-spirited Jewess in the celebrated affair which cut France in
two some twenty years ago, who clung more closely to her husband on
account of the public injustice. She had the timid instinctive respect
of the French _bourgeoisie_ for the official verdict. Though she knew
that there were no grounds for the accusation against Clerambault, she
felt that it was a disgrace to be accused, which also affected her,
and this she could not bear in silence. Unfortunately, in replying
to her reproaches, Clerambault took the worst possible line, without
meaning it, for instead of trying to defend himself, he only said:

"My poor wife, it is awfully hard on you ...Yes, you are right," and
then waited till the shower was over. But this tone upset Madame
Clerambault, who was furious because she felt she had no hold on her
husband. She knew perfectly that though he appeared to agree with
her she could not turn him from his course of action. Despairing
of success, she went off to pour her troubles into the ears of her
brother. Leo Camus made no attempt to disguise his opinion that the
best thing she could do was to get a divorce, which he represented to
her as a duty. This, however, was going a little too far; she was,
after all, a respectable _bourgeoise_, and the traditional horror
of divorce re-awakened her profound fidelity and made her think the
remedy worse than the disease; so they remained united on the surface,
but intimacy between them was gone.

Rosine was out nearly all day, for in order to forget her unhappiness
she was taking a course in trained nursing, and she passed a large
part of her time away from home. Even when she was at home her
thoughts seemed far away, and Clerambault had never regained his
former place in his daughter's heart; another filled it now--Daniel.
She treated her father coldly; he was the cause of her separation from
the man of her heart, and this was a way of punishing him. And though
she was too just not to reproach herself, still she could not alter;
injustice is sometimes a consolation.

Daniel had not forgotten, any more than Rosine; he was not proud of
his conduct, but it rather softened his remorse to throw the blame on
his surroundings, on the tyrannical opinion which had coerced him; but
in his heart he was discontented with himself.

Accident came to the assistance of this sulking pair of lovers. Daniel
was seriously but not dangerously wounded, and was evacuated back to
Par