She
didn't wish him to have the pain of knowing she was unhappy: that
was the great thing, and it didn't matter that such knowledge would
rather have righted him.
For herself, she lingered in the soundless saloon long after the
fire had gone out. There was no danger of her feeling the cold; she
was in a fever. She heard the small hours strike, and then the great
ones, but her vigil took no heed of time. Her mind, assailed by
visions, was in a state of extraordinary activity, and her visions
might as well come to her there, where she sat up to meet them, as
on her pillow, to make a mockery of rest. As I have said, she believed
she was not defiant, and what could be a better proof of it than
that she should linger there half the night, trying to persuade
herself that there was no reason why Pansy shouldn't be married as you
would put a letter in the post-office? When the clock struck four
she got up; she was going to bed at last, for the lamp had long
since gone out and the candles burned down to their sockets. But
even then she stopped again in the middle of the room and stood
there gazing at a remembered vision-that of her husband and Madame
Merle unconsciously and familiarly associated.
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