I could fancy--I
did not find it impossible to fancy--that under her queenly
exterior, and behind the contemptuous laugh with which she heard
the landlord's story, there lurked a woman's soul, a soul capable
of folly and tenderness. But no outward sign betrayed its
presence--as I saw her then.
I scanned her very carefully; and secretly, if the truth be told,
I was glad to find that Madame de Cocheforet was such a woman. I
was glad that she had laughed as she had--with a ring of disdain
and defiance; glad that she was not a little, tender, child-like
woman, to be crushed by the first pinch of trouble. For if I
succeeded in my task, if I contrived to--but, pish! Women, I
told myself, were all alike. She would find consolation quickly
enough.
I watched until the group broke up, and Madame, with one of the
men, went her way round the corner of the inn, and out of my
sight. Then I retired to bed again, feeling more than ever
perplexed what course I should adopt. It was clear that to
succeed I must obtain admission to the house, which was
garrisoned, according to my instructions, by two or three old
men-servants only, and as many women; since Madame, to disguise
her husband's visits the more easily, lived, and gave out that
she lived, in great retirement.
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