The Frontier

She preferred to cut short a painful scene the meaning of which escaped her, although the scene itself did not astonish her on Suzanne's part:

"I am going downstairs," she said. "It's time for the post; and I am expecting letters."

"So you're leaving me!" said Suzanne, in a broken voice.

Marthe could not help laughing:

"Well, yes, I am leaving you in this room … unless you refuse to stay…"

Suzanne ran after her and, holding her back:

"You mustn't! I only ask for a movement, a kind word… I am passing through a terrible time, I need help and you … you repel me… It's you who are repelling me, don't forget that… It's you…"

"That's understood," said Marthe. "I am a cruel friend… Only, you see, my dear little Suzanne, if the thought of your marriage upsets you to that extent, it might be a good plan to tell your father… Come, come along downstairs and calm yourself."

They found Mme. Morestal below, feather-broom in hand, an apron tied round her waist, waging her daily battle against a dust that existed only in her imagination.

"I suppose you know, mamma, that Philippe is not yet up?"

"The lazy fellow! It's nearly nine o'clock. I hope he's not ill!"

"Oh, no!" said Marthe. "But, all the same, when I go up again, I'll look in and see."

Mme. Morestal went as far as the hall with the two young women. Suzanne was already walking away, without a word, with the face which she wore on her black days, as Marthe said, when Mme. Morestal called her back:

"You're forgetting your stick, child."

The old lady had taken the long, iron-shod walking-stick from the umbrella-stand. But, suddenly, she began to rummage among the canes and sunshades, muttering:

"Well, that's funny…"

"What's the matter?" asked Marthe.

"I can't find Morestal's stick. And yet it's always here."

"He must have put it down somewhere else."

"Impossible! If so, it would be the first time in his life. I know him so well!.. What can it mean?.. Victor!"

The man ran into the hall:

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Victor, why isn't your master's cane here?"

"I have a notion, ma'am, that the master has gone out."

"Gone out! But you ought to have told me… I was beginning to be anxious."

"I said so just now to Catherine."

"But what makes you think …?"

"In the first place, the master did not put his boots outside his door as usual… M. Philippe neither…"

"What!" said Marthe. "Has M. Philippe gone out too?"

"Very early this morning, ma'am … before my time for getting up."

In spite of herself, Suzanne Jorancé protested:

"But no, it's not conceivable…"

"Why, when I came down," said Victor, "the front-door was not locked."

"And your master never forgets to turn the key, does he?"

"Never. As the door was not locked, it means either that the master has gone out … or else…"

"Or else what?"

"That he hasn't come in… Only, I say that as I might say anything that came into my head…"

"Not come in!" exclaimed Mme. Morestal.

She reflected for a second, then turned on her heels, ran up the stairs with surprising agility, crossed a passage and entered her husband's bedroom.

She uttered a cry and called:

"Marthe!.. Marthe!.."

But the young woman, who had followed her, was already on her way to the second floor, with Suzanne.

Philippe's room was at the back. She opened the door quickly and stood on the threshold, speechless.

Philippe was not there; and the bed had not even been undone.

CHAPTER II

PHILIPPE TELLS A LIE

The three women met in the drawing-room. Mme. Morestal walked up and down in dismay, hardly knowing what she was saying:

"Not in!.. Philippe neither!.. Victor, you must run … but where to?.. Where is he to look?.. Oh, it's really too terrible!.."

She suddenly stepped in front of Marthe and stammered:

"The … the shots … last night…"